Page 136 of Impulse Control
I forced my legs to move.
I went home.
I did three productive things in a row like it could erase the taste of her mouth.
I answered Frankie.
I sent Noor feedback.
I uploaded files and labeled them with ridiculous precision.
At midnight, I sat on my bed with my phone in my hand and recorded a voice note for Dominic.
Just ten seconds.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “It’s crazy here. And I—” My throat tightened. I swallowed. “I miss you.”
I listened to it once.
It still sounded needy.
It sounded like I wanted something.
And I didn’t feel entitled to want anything from him. Not when he asked and I kept answering with I don’t know.
I deleted it.
The screen went blank, and the space where the message had been felt louder than it should have.
I opened Dominic’s name anyway.
Stared at the empty text field.
Then I hit record again.
“I keep trying to find the right words and they’re all terrible,” I said, voice barely steady. “I want to say so many things and I don’t know how to say any of them.” I exhaled. “So… yeah. I miss you. I miss you a lot. I don’t have any answers. I just— good night.”
My thumb hovered.
Then, before I could think myself out of it, I hit send.
I set the phone face down like it might judge me.
Then I opened my calendar.
And added another reminder.
As if the right alert, at the right time, could fix whatever I’d just done.
As if I could schedule my way out of wanting too much.
I stared at the blocks of color until my eyes blurred.
Green.
Blue.
Yellow.
