i've read the first prose i've written for you months ago while listening to midnight sky inside the class.
it feels like we were alone with art, literature, music, sadness and fear.

fear that you might be farther away soon.
more distant than where you were today.
and though i wanted to hold you, i may not be able to do so.
you were the only right among the fifty question exam, the sole answer.

i know you, like my favorite place, your scent will always be my most familiar one, and your hand would always be my honor to hold.
tu me manques.
you are missing from me.