"Good morning! Yea, I can't come into work today." They glanced through the front door's peephole one more time, just to make sure. "It's because I- actually, you remember that anxiety I was telling you I have? It's back, full-swing. I've been having panic attacks all morning, my digestion is completely out of whack, I tried to boil eggs earlier for breakfast and spilled the pan on the way to the stove. Raw eggs and water all over my brand new floor."

They were just blabbering now. Anything to postpone opening the front door, confronting what was outside. They continued to rant until a bang resonated through the front door once again.

They went dead silent, cutting off mid-sentence. From far away their boss asked what happened, if they were alright. Thoughts racing, they replied, saying they knocked something over, had to go clean it up. They added another apology to their excuse, then hung up as another needy bang shook the door.

Their boss was worried, of course. They were rather close, told most things to each other. But this was too much to share. Too big, too impossible.

There's no real way to tell your boss something like this without sounding insane. How do you tell your boss the real reason you can't go to work is because your late husband is at your doorstep, covered in mud, begging you to let him in?