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How’s it going today?
I see you’ve come to tell me another story.
What will it be about tonight?
That story again?
I know it’s your favorite, but it’s not mine.
Do I remember how it goes?
Of course, I do.
Okay, I’ll start it from the beginning, but just one more time.
They say time heals all wounds, but time passes and this wound continues to bleed.
I can’t go through this story again.
I can’t say his name anymore.
If you’re going to tell me a story, please begin with tears and end with my teeth showing all my molars.
You’d like me to start?
I missed you today when I reached to my right in my sleep and hit my nightstand and Viktor Frankl’s, A Man’s Search for Meaning instead.
I missed you today when I used a different bottle of shampoo and took off my own T-shirt I wore to bed.
I missed you today when I opened the fridge and there was no more Dr. Pepper.
I missed you today when you weren’t here to double-check that I locked the door.
I missed you today when I hugged my pillow and inhaled only my scent.
I missed you today at 5 a.m. when your lips were not resting on mine.
I missed you a lot today, but my molars shined ever so brightly when what I missed, even more, said hello to me in the mirror tonight.
It’s okay to grieve.
I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.
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