Every night, without fail, I hear the outside door squeak open. I hear your feet on the steps outside. I mistake a car passing out on the street for yours pulling into the driveway. I doze off and wake up thinking I hear the rustle of your jacket being hung up on the coat rack. I keep imagining you sneaking in. I dream that you wake me up and ask me to leave the couch and come to bed. Even just now, I split the blinds with my fingers checking for your headlights.