He’s the only person who ever looked me in the eye and told me to be better, and then taught me how. I find myself missing the most unexpected things, like the way he fixes my plates in the mornings, as if he’s feeding a linebacker instead of a petite Duchess. I miss the way he’d pace around here at night, anxious to go to bed. I miss the way he’d feel next to me as I slept. The warmth of his skin when I woke in the mornings curled against his side. The softness in his eyes before he got too awake to realize he was holding me back.
