The phone rings. 3:30 AM wake up call. We look at each other with tears already in our eyes as we slide out of the slippery motel sheets. You finish packing your things
as I sit on the corner of the bed, numb. I glance at my watch and it's time.
We both suddenly become very engrossed in the act of getting dressed, delicately buttoning up our shirts, carefully pulling on each shoe and tying the laces. I watch you as you shave, trying to memorize the contours of your face, to get me through the nights of the coming months.
We have doe eyes, caught in the headlights of the inevitable. I tell you I love you, I hug you just one more time, and then just one more time, and then just once more. I have to leave quickly or I won't be able to leave at all. I promise you again that I'll see you again as soon as I can, and that I'm still yours. Our faces wet, we kiss one last time, and then again, and then it's time.
I get in from work to a cold dark quiet house. I walk to my room and turn on my window to the world, hoping to find a letter from you to cut through the bad day I've just had. I try to busy myself, chatting idly with people I've never met, and never will. I read everything I can get my hands on to keep from thinking about how alone I am. The quiet is so loud it makes everything else sound tinny and distant. I'm hungry, but nothing in the cupboard sates me.
I retire to my bed, and listen to our music. I remember the way you bob your head to the beat when you think I'm not looking, and giggle. I can't seem to get comfortable, my arms searching the sheets in vain, aching for you. I close my eyes and try to imagine what you're doing. I see you in your room, trying to bring order to the chaotic stacks of papers, books, and magazines. You hunch over your laptop, slowly eking out your bread and butter, letter by letter. Your shoulders look more comfortable than any pillow Cleopatra would deign to perch upon. I can almost smell you, tired and warm.
I like to think that you know I'm thinking about you, that you can feel me watching you. It makes it easier to keep the quiet at bay. I can feel you with me, though it brings only sleepy melancholy. Soon my eyelids grow too heavy and I sigh myself to sleep.
One day closer to you.