I miss the way he pulls me in to lean on him as we’re walking, then gently allows me to rest my head on his shoulder while he places an arm around me. I miss the way he sits smiling at me without me noticing and his unabashed admittance to it when I do sense his gaze on me. I miss his rumbling deep laughter at my silly jokes, his infectious grin when we’re doing something mundane like grocery shopping. I miss the way he hugs me so tight that I can feel his heartbeat through my face pressed up against his chest and breathe in his musky earthy manly scent. I miss our moments of seriousness, when we can put aside the banter and be real. I miss the tender concerned glance he sends my way in a crowd, the moment when our eyes meet across the room and in that second we know what the other is feeling. I miss his ease in saying things that make my heart skip a beat and banish the inner skeptic, leaving me to bask in his words. I miss watching him in his element thriving. I miss lying in his arms mentally capturing each contour and angle of his sleeping face, then being startled when he pulls me even closer towards him. I miss falling asleep with him uncurling my fingers and gently lacing his through them. And selfish as it may be, I miss the way his eyes tell me he misses me each time we say goodbye, the way I know my longing is matched by his.