We love at our best, often without asking if the person on the other end is capable of holding it. We cut ourselves open, stitching our weight into someone else’s hands, praying they’ll know what to do with it. And when they leave, we wrestle with an anger that loves us enough to protect us but not enough to chase after our ghosts.

This is a body of work written when the weight of love was the heaviest. A story told about the lingering dial tones and conversations that re...