The intensity with which I miss him surprises me, much like so many other pieces of whatever this is.

Confusing and overwhelming, I am unable to explain it all, and have somewhat given up on trying. I can focus on the twelve hundred miles between us. I can think of possibilities, both good and bad.

Last night, he said that in ten years, the memory of our first morning together would still be one of the predominant memories of his life. I didn’t know how to take that. I’m elated that he might think of me just as fondly in ten years. I wonder if he thinks of some future version of us, or if that day is just imprinted. I worry that the only part of him I’ll have that many years from now are the memories.


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