The Skype call and the sun and the cracking sound.
Sitting in the low-slung rattan chair that we got just after arriving in Zürich, the spring sun was streaming in through the balcony door.
I remember running track in high school.
I could hold my own in the 100 meters, at least against most Iowa boys.
Heart like a hole.
It was a typical, sunny spring morning in Zürich. Awakened by the buzzing on my night table, I grabbed my phone and held it up, tracing the familiar pattern on the screen. And then it dropped. Right on my face.