He’s unaware of how much I miss his smile and laugh. Or the warmth of his hand. He’s unaware that he sends my anxiety running with its tail between its legs as if there’s no room for that when he’s present. He’s unaware that my insecurities melt away underneath his gaze. He’s unaware that when he’s in a room with me, no one else exists. My life without Grey is lackluster, and he doesn’t even know it.
