Missing you.

Just for a moment, I let my eyes drift to the side. My thoughts took a completely different turn. My eyes, persuaded by a lack of sleep, glazed over a little.

I saw straight past the mug he thought I was staring at. Straight past the wall behind it. Straight into the past.

Straight to you.

Suddenly, I realized he was staring at me. I continued to look into nothing, watching him from the corner of my eye.

Slowly, I drew my yes back to him. “What are you thinking?”

Surprise lit his face for less than a second. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“What do you mean?” But he had seen it.

“Where did you go?”

“I was right here.”

“No, you weren’t. You left. You weren’t present.”

I continued to play dumb.

He continued to argue. He told me I had stared into nothing. That I didn’t normally do that. That I hadn’t been making eye contact like I normally did. That I wasn’t even blinking.

He told me that he didn’t want to push the subject.

But then he reminded me that I had told him if he didn’t push, I wouldn’t speak. I had said that. Me and my big mouth.

So finally I told him.

I had gone to you.

I told him about you. Not everything about you. Not all the things I missed. Not the reasons why you were my best friend. Not what a wonderful person you are. Not any of the things you’ve done for me.

Not any of those things.

I just told him that I missed you. That’s why my mind went to you. Why I had left the room and gone to you. It’s why I worry about you.

Missing you.



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