Waiting transforms absence into something almost physical. The person who is gone becomes present in every empty space, every unfinished thought, every moment in which we still expect the door to open. The figure reaches toward something that may never return. It is impossible to know whether the gesture is one of hope, desperation, or simply habit. Sometimes we continue reaching long after we have understood that there is nothing coming back. There is a particular cruelty in absence when it leaves the possibility of return alive.