Some big departure on a long voyage

I’m sitting at my desk with its big sunny windows when I notice Talia leaving the house. I find myself waving sadly at her through the window, as if it were some big departure on a long voyage, and not a minor errand that will take an hour. She can’t see me. She’s busy driving. I’m sending a signal with no recipient. Why do we do this — love? Optimism? Habit? What is a relationship if not a place where optimism can become a habit?

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