Once home, I go online to look for your picture again. I stare at your face. You are smiling, faintly, possibly at me. I want to close the page but I can’t stop staring. All I want is to look at you, touch your face, I want this face to be in my house, my office, my life. I want it so much that I am suddenly gripped by the worst fear: tomorrow morning you won’t show up. I’ll be there, waiting, and you won’t come. I’ll wait for you, and keep waiting, even if you’re two, three, four hours late, I’ll wait in the afternoon and by evening still say I shouldn’t stop waiting. I don’t know why I’ll
...more
