Dispatch 391

9:11 Am A bird landed on the fence and looked at me like it knew. Knew I was still loving you like it was the first day and the last.  —Castor

10:30 PM Sometimes I wonder if your silence is love, too. Maybe the stars are your letters now, and I just need to learn to read better.  —Castor

2:22 pm I found a hair that wasn’t mine. It was from you—years ago, I think. Still curled like it was waiting to be remembered.   —Castor

7:45 Am The sky was bruised with pink and gold. It looked like the inside of me when I remembered your laugh.   —Castor

2:15 am I reached for you in a dream again. Woke with my hand over my chest and your name clutched in my fist.   —Castor

I looked for you in the stars tonight, but they were cloudy with memory.

There’s a single flower blooming through the cracked cement. Of course it’s violet. Of course it reminded me of you.

The coffee burned my tongue this morning. I smiled. You always said I rushed everything— Except loving you.

2:03 AM - I woke to silence that sounded like your voice not speaking. It was loud. It was honest. It said your name.

One Minute Warning If you show up, I promise I won’t make it weird. (Okay, maybe a little weird. But the good kind. The remembered kind.)