We sit on my green couch facing each other. We're talking about nothing important. I tell him about my days and how my pain hasn’t been decreasing. I tell him my feelings and my thoughts. The dark thoughts.

"I just thought about that the other day," he says.

"Did you think about how you would do it?" Ask them if they've thought of how. That's when you'll know how serious they are about it, I recall the words from my college training.

He nods.

I look at him. I want to say something pithy, but words refuse to cooperate. Who am I to give advice when I’ve thought of it a million times myself? He’s sensible and he knows all the right words to say in this situation. So it’s pointless for me to use them on him. But I try anyway.

"You need to book a vacation," I say. "Just get away for a little while. It will relax you and help you put things in perspective."

He nods. He tells me he says the same thing to his employees. I know he knows. He knows he knows. I ask him if he wants to see a professional. "Maybe it'll help", I say. "What do you have to lose?"

I tell him I know someone. I tell him she's really nice. He says he might. We both know he won't. Not yet. Not now.

On the surface, there's nothing wrong. Work is great. Love is great. Life is great. But something must be askew. Why else is he staring at the ceiling at nights? Why else won't the feeling go away?

"We’re just sad people," I say. "We've always been that way, we'll always be that way. That's why we choose to partner with happy people. Cause we know we're sad inside. It's no big deal. It'll go away." Yeah, right. I'm not fooling either one of us.

He smiles. "I'll go home and book a vacation tonight."

"Good. Make sure to do that. Mail me and tell me what you booked." I hug him.

There are a million things I want to say, but I don’t.

Previously? Touch Me.