Sometimes I get lost in the in-between hours; between being at work and going home to her... the time spent alone in my car, or in my office... all those silent times. I get lost in the thoughts about the future and the past. I stray away from the difficulties of the present, just for a moment. When I wander I find myself at the same door again and again, the door far from the light, marked with caution tape, and red spray paint, scorched from fire. A door that's locked to me, although I know that there is nowhere to venture beyond. But in the center in brass letters is your name, and each time I trace the script with the same vacancy. I pret