I missed you today in an anxious way. I wanted you to show up even though I knew you wouldn’t.

It’s back to the same routine at work. I get touched and joked with, and I go along and play my part. But I’d rather not. I’d rather be texting you. I’d rather you be here so I could smile at you, smile in a real way like I don’t with them. I’d rather bring you water and Nerds and touch you in front of people. I’d rather watch you and the furrow on your forehead that you get when you’re concentrating. I’d rather you be flirting with me. I’d rather your arms and your waist and your eyes looking so green and lashes so heavy in the shower. I’d rather my hand on your cheek and my finger in your mouth and that look on your face, the one I can’t describe. Not adoring or filled with lust. Not distant or broody. (You had those looks too.) Contemplative. Worried. Confused. Serious. Seeking. It was like you were looking at me and trying to answer a question for yourself. What was the question? What were you looking for? Did you find your answer or did you just stop asking?

That look. I’d rather that look.

I missed you today.