I look at the crystals lined up on the window sill. Opal for passion, carnelian for desire, rose quartz for kindness, black tourmaline for disagreement, bloodstone for jealousy. A timeline our downfall told in stones. I want to put them in a box and mail them to her, pay too much to ship twenty pounds of rocks to her doorstep, no return address. Would she be able to figure it out?

I am beginning to forget how her voice sounds, the crunch of velcro being slowly ripped apart. 

I search for “crystals, sanity” and scroll until my eyes go dry.