I spend each day, passing people, holding doors, barely brushing against an arm, possibly shaking someone's hand. After four years, feeling the warmth of your hands, the strength of your arms wrapped around me, and the heat of your breath on my neck, I now pass each day with no human physical contact. As the days pass, I feel more and more like an infant, who has been coddled for the first 10 days of life, and then left in the middle of a desert.
I come home, to a silent house, wishing for noise, for someone's voice, to fill the empty air. I stay awake until I'm too tired to think, so I won't lie in bed and think of you. I forgot how difficult it is, to stay warm under the covers, without your body beside me. I pile on the blankets, but still shiver during the night. As it approachs the summer solstice, I count down the days until I can see you.