I used to climb trees
swinging my body up to the next limb.
My hands scratched against bark
as they gripped rough, sap-covered branches.

The sensation of the tree dancing in the wind
as I held on tightly
was nothing compared to the way I feel now.

My stomach knots,
aching in hunger
yet not desiring food.

I peek around the curtain,
check the driveway
again.
Empty.

I dance around the room
silent cell phone in hand
attempting to match my beating heart
with frenzied footwork
until I hear

a car door slam.
footsteps on the porch.
slightly-off-key doorbell.
my thumping heart.