Three years and eight months. That's how long it had been since I'd last seen Pablo in person. And yet I remembered everything. My screaming, my reproaches, that silence when he closed the apartment door. He did it slowly, not trying to make it a scene, which somehow made it worse. It was all still so vivid it could have been last week. I could have followed him down the stairs, stopped him before he got in that Uber. I c...