The driver wanted to help me carry my stuff up the stairs, but I insisted that he leave me. Now, I am standing outside of the familiar apartment door where I lived with Jeff for over two years. It seems foreign to me, like a place I was never meant to be in the first place. The fact that I’ve come back here of my own choice seems surreal. I stand staring at the door for a long moment, unable to force myself to take this last step. I’ve made it this far. I just need to go inside. I just ...