In a way she felt a little stupid. He had only been gone for a few hours, yet they seemed like weeks to her. She already missed him. She missed everything about him. The sound of his voice, his warm embrace, the comfort she felt in his arms as they spent the night together. All that was lost to her for yet a few more weeks. She could only wish for the summer a few months earlier when the were nothing short of inseparable. It was then that he was merely a short drive away, taking less time to reach him than it would to dial his phone number. Yet here she was again. Hours away from him, his kiss, and the way he made love to her. All that was lost again until his return home in the weeks coming.

It was so deceiving when she spoke to them on the phone. He seemed so close as he had been for those conversations that lasted into the deep hours of the night with school beckoning on the horizon. Of course she was exhausted the next day in class but it was all worth it to hear his voice few just a few extra minutes. Phone calls. She laughed when she thought of what their relationship had been reduced to: e-mails(this being the age of technology), the occassinal phone call, and the even more infrequent, yet somehow more intimate letter. These were even more of a rarity and therefore even more of a treat. "Letters are tangible, a part of you", he always says.

She walked into her room with the unrealistic hope that there'd be a message on her machine saying he's not going and he'll be right over. The light was blinking but her hopes were soon dashed against the proverbial rocks as all that was revealed was a hang-up and a call from one of her so-called friends who never really understood her or the deepness of her feelings. Not like he does. She fought back the slight urge to she always had to cry. She refused to allow herself to be reduced to that especially with the risk of someone seeing her.

She lied down on her bed thinking about how much she loved him. For the first time in her life someone actually cared about her and loved her back. She wasn't quite sure why he loved her and always questioned his reasons and trustworthiness. Yet deep down she knew that he really did love her. Why would he have proposed to her if he didn't? Yet she couldn't help feeling that he deserved someone better. She couldn't see herself with anyone else and didn't want to picture him with anyone else but still she wondered if she was truly meant for him no matter how much he reassured her.

Suddenly her thoughts drifted to the future. One where she pictures the happiness they'll both share together. Visions of their own home, children, romance and every now and then a candlelight shower. Dreams of what they will have together. Everything she wants in her future lies in them. As usual she's interrupted with an intruder in the form of a knock at the door.

"Come in", she says in an annoyed voice.

Her younger sister walks in timidly, knowing she's broken some sacred silence that filled the room only moments before.

"Mommy said dinner's ready"

"I'm not hungry"

"What's wrong, sis."

"Nothing, now get out."

With this the younger one slowly pulls the door shut confused as to what it was she did wrong. The thoughts start pouring into her head now. How will she survive being away from him so long? Is he being faithful? Does he love me? Will we be married? More and more came until the attacked her with such speed and numbers that she finally gave into her deepest urge and began to cry. Why did he have to be so far away? Far away where she couldn't see him or kiss him or just lie in his arms and listen to him make his usual fumbling attempts at comforting her that in some odd way succeeded even when she was determined to have them fail. Now when she needed him the most he was in a car riding out of her life for another stretch of unbearable time. Sometimes the thought arose in her to break up with him, but she knew that wasn't the answer. She had to have him in her life even this little bit which was allowed unto them.

After a few minutes of somewhat theraputic crying she got up and walked over to her desk. She picked up a pad and a pen and at first just played with it in her hands. Gradually words began to flow from the pen as they flowed from her mind. The writing helped her cope being stories or poetry or nothing classifiable. She didn't fancy herself any good but it helped. It took away some of the pain and that was what was important. She had written him thousands of letters but out of her general shyness and fears she never built up the courage to actually send them. This resulted in the shoebox full of address but unmailed admittances of her feelings. One day, she thought, she might let him read them. He'd enjoy looking back to that time and she'd enjoy his reaction. Especially the smile she had grown all too familiar with during the course of their time together.

She wrote for what seemed to be a rather short amount of time. When she looked at the clock she had realized that hours had passed and it was now into the next day. By now he would be in his room assumingly catching up with his friends and their weekend, living his own life, and hopefully thinking of her. She thought about getting undressed but decided to just sleep in her clothes to remember the day she spent with him a little longer. She casually walked over to the wall and flipped off the light switch. She lied down on the floor, due to the mess on her bed, imagined his arms around her once more, and fell asleep, smiling.