You have missed me, haven’t you?
Of course, you have also missed the way my hair fell across my face when I was reading in the library, and the way the light from those little lamps shone across my face.
You miss the way I answered the phone, too: confused at first at the silence at your end of the line, then annoyed, irritated, and finally a bit scared by the end, after it had been going on like that for nearly a year. You liked to watch me, too, from the park across the street from my apartment, or from your car when I was out shopping or with friends. You must have enjoyed that, to have kept it up for so long: now you have to find some other way to fill your time.
You looked so happy when you finally came through my bedroom window that night, so thrilled to finally meet me. You didn’t seem to mind that I did not share your excitement. But then you seemed so disappointed when it was over so quickly, so sad that in smothering my screams you had stopped me breathing, too.
Don’t you wish now you had just kept watching?