#yabo

Sky cat: mother where are u? Do u not want me? Are u okay? U make loud noises(coughing) I shall make noise too. Follow my screams they shall lead u to me.*continues to scream at top of her lungs with no breaks for 30minutes*

It was not longing they felt, for they (would have said they) had not longed for each other. Not consciously, at least. They had not missed each other (they would have said), grieving, the way lovers separated by a tragic absence - the murder of one, say, or the surprise of a quick, terminal illness disease - did. Nor (they would have said) had they felt want, for that would imply innocence. And yet they felt all they did not say: longing, grief, want; for they were each a limb of the other. And what they'd felt, separately, for years, was akin to a tingling of phantom nerves after an amputation, the sensation a limb was still there though it was gone. Jules called it lonely. Zen called it don't cling. And that was how they began, again. In this time.

But now we are evolving, adapting, shedding that which we no longer use. Perhaps you are thinking of your appendix. But can you think of the spot where you once grew antennae? It is still there. Because the body never forgets; which is why you are not necessary in its remembering.