He sends Henry five texts the first day. Two the second. By day three, none. He's spent too much of his life talking, talking, talking to not know the signs when someone doesn't want to hear him anymore.

He starts forcing himself to only check his phone once every two hours instead of once an hour, makes himself hang on by his fingernails until the minutes tick down. A few times, he gets wrapped up in obsessively reading press coverage of the campaign and realizes he hasn't checked in hours, and every time he's hit with a hiccupping, desperate hope that there will be something. There never is.

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