The Little Things

You miss people in the little things.

You miss the way your bodies melted together when he cuddled you at night. You roll over, alone in your own bed, tossing and turning, imagining his arm snaking around your waist and the feeling of his chest against your back. It simultaneously kills you and comforts you.

You miss the way he would kiss your forehead when watching a movie. This subtle, sometimes involuntary and impulsive, action that came right after you would settle your head on his chest. “You’re the best cuddler,” he would say. This was his way of letting you know that he cares for you.

His laugh, his jokes, his voice, the way he would save you a seat at dinner – always on his right side, because he’s left handed.

How he would almost always face the other way when sleeping because he didn’t want to wake you up with his snoring. How he would kiss you every morning before leaving for class.

Playing a board game together.

How you feel safe with him. You could be on the verge of a panic attack, but you’d be fine the second he walked into the room. Having someone in your life that you feel 100% comfortable around. Having someone who feels like home.

How the smell of him still comforts you, still feels like home, even after he broke your heart.

It’s funny how something as arbitrary as a pillow can make you want to fall to the floor and cry with every fiber of your being.

It’s the little things that mean the most. You don’t even recognize these things in the moment.

But once he’s gone, the little things are all you can think about.



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