Yes, some forty miles east from where I now sit there stirs a woman I love. It is Sunday. Her children I love just as much. Our children. I sit by myself. They are together. Bundled. A bundle of love they are. They are so close, and yet… Too far. I cannot reach them any longer. Another world, due east. I cannot even imagine reaching them ever again. Some forty miles. The way we are, this Sunday, forty miles is as good as forty million, trillion… Due east. Yes, another world due east. A bundle of love too far.