Je sens son absence.

A mild test for the two of us. Minor sting, can’t wait to hear your variation. Happy smiles, chin up, fleeting ego. Lots of stopping, then starting again, but not as if driven by a motor. A repetitive scheme it is not. Far from. Far, far from. I miss you smiling at me. In the garden, in the parking lot. In the car, briefly to yourself, because I made you laugh so you hang your head and chuckle and I find myself going completely fucking insane as a result of that.

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