So much for the unsaid.

Before I even opened my eyes,
before I could pretend
  this was just another morning,
  there she was—

  bright,
 smiling,

 a wake-up call wrapped in warmth,

And just like that:
     the day had a name.

We didn’t make plans,
           never did.

A whole month ahead
    and somehow,
    we forgot to map it out.

Maybe because it doesn’t matter.
Maybe because wherever we are,
         everything will matter.

Normal things filled the hours.

Work was good.
   just the usual,
   maybe one or two surprises.

Her allergies weren’t. (weren't good)
    She fought sneezes,

    I fought the urge to hug her.

I held back impatience—
   the wait for her to be
     perfectly,
   beautifully well—

   so we can test whether I am still
                a walking biohazard.

A problem no one else
has ever had to solve.

A problem that,
  somehow,

  feels like the most important thing in the world.

And through it all,
    the messages never stopped.

Chit-chat,
  updates,
  the usual rhythms.

But something in me
        wanted more. (so. much. more.)

Not words,
    not emojis,
    not even…
             her voice

    through a speaker.

Just *her*. (here)

Instead, I hold the space where she should be—

         (just for a moment,
          just to— feel it.)

And maybe that’s what today was—
  a quiet proof that everything works

  even *without*

  what we really want.

Even apart,
     even waiting,
     even still—
<To be continued...>