I miss her—the feeling of her body pressed against me, the taste of her lips, the sound of her sweet, hard-earned laughter. I miss the way her hazel eyes spark when she’s excited about something, the way she scrunches her nose when she’s deep in thought, and the warmth of her hand as it fits perfectly into mine. I miss the conversations we’ve shared late into the night, discussing everything from our dreams and aspirations to the trivial, everyday moments that make up our lives. I miss the way she challenges me, pushing me back when I piss her off.
