The fluorescent-green digits of my nightstand clock diagnosed me with a bad case of acute jet lag. It's a bitch. The first concrete thoughts to blaze through my sleepy mind were of Gabe and what he might be doing at that exact moment. They fired my body like a torch set to parched underbrush on a torrid August day. Longing swept over me. An abrupt sense of unconquerable distance brought tears to my eyes. I rolled over and caught a glimpse of the world outside the window. In the ...