as i sat there this morning, i waited for a hand on my knee. for fingers searching to intertwine with mine in one of those odd ways we find so comfortable and familiar.

i waited for a bit of brown hair to fall out of place so that i could slide it back behind her ear.

i waited for her to put my arm around. for her to lean back into me.

for her to wrap her arms around one of mine and lay her head on my shoulder. for a cool arm and cold bracelet to touch my arm. and i took a sweater, just in case she showed up. because i knew that if she did, that i would want her to be able to wear it to keep warm.

she is so far away. and yet i find myself anxiously awaiting her return. it is that important.



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number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here

love is no enemy of mine.