"I wasn't sad. A dozen or so sticks for company under a Parisian-esque twilight, I am missing your fingertips and the way the world felt right each time I held your hand in mine. I am missing every afternoon before class when I'd kiss you on the forehead when you were asleep because you may not hear me say that I love you but I sure do know that you can feel it. I miss breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. I miss how with one look you could tell me that you couldn't finish your whole meal anymore. I miss you so, and when someone asks me about you, I am not sad; I am yearning. "