A long Mid-winter night
I will fold double,
And put it carefully
Under the blanket of Spring Breeze.
At the night when my dear lover comes
I may unfold it with my whole heart.
—Hwang Jin-i

Restless, sleepless: it has been two weeks, the globe rolling on to make it three. It does not stop, or even pause, to wait for you to forget the many thoughts that freeze the empty space next to you on the queen-sized bed.

Gripping sheets; hopelessly sniffing for any traces of that one scent reminding you of a thousand wishes made on a million stars: of a full moon seen from a broad shoulder, of a warm hand engulfing yours as it fills up the blank gaps between your fingers. Curling up, tearing up; dreaming while awake: of a low voice that always speaks gently, of a dance that reminds you how the world constantly moves in a graceful mass of beauty.

It is empty, but not for long.

The door creaks open, the first few beams of sunlight stealing through a shadow fresh from a midnight flight from an international tour. The shadow fills the creased space, and it turns into a familiar body pushing close to you until you can breathe again.

“I missed you.”

Epigraph translation. Au fait: Having a good or detailed knowledge of something.

Forgive me. I adore him too much.