I think I miss him most when I remember the morning he gazed at me across from our cups of coffee, casually inserting his long elegant fingers into the tears of my jeans.
I blush and ask him what he’s staring at. He says, “What? I can’t just look at you?” I’ve never felt so uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. We could sit in silence and never grow tired of it. I’d never experienced the phenomenon of sitting across from myself. To be with someone, yet to feel like you’re all by yourself is an eerie thing.
We walk to the train. He picks me up to kiss me goodbye, my feet far from the ground. He says, “I’ll see you later?” I nod sheepishly. He looks back as he descends the stairs.
I sleep alone.