I still talk to you in my head. I tell you about my day, every little ridiculous thing that happened, knowing exactly where you'd laugh. You'd call me adorable, tease me a little, then drift into one of your endless rambles while I quietly listened, smiling because you're voice always felt like home. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine you're lying next to me. Close enough to reach for. Close enough to forget, if only for a second, that you're not really there. Eventually, you'd tell me you had things to do. So we'd hang up. And I'd spend the rest of the day waiting for my phone to light up again. Always hoping it would be you. It always was you.

I saw the end when we began.