15 hours since I last saw you, 1,429 miles now exists between us. I’m slowly coming down from the high of the days we spent together. The feel of you lingers. I stare at the scenery outside and all I see is you. Your smile is etched in my mind and when I close my eyes, I feel your lips. I hold onto you, willing you to stay with me as more miles stretch ahead.
49 days and 6,152 miles from you. I can feel your magnetic pull from across the Pacific Ocean. I am a cluster of raw nerves. Crushed by an all-consuming need of you, I can barely breathe. They hand me compliments and tell me they miss me. Can’t they tell I’ve already given my heart away? There is only you.
55 days and 459 miles from you. Days of hope and conviction are followed by waves of doubt and dejection. What if I don’t reach you in time? Everyday presents a new threat as it brings me closer to you. I re-play every possibility in my head countless times. I see us meeting for lunch. I’d casually ask about your dating life and when you tell me you’re seeing someone, I’d say I’m happy for you. I imagine us having dinner and when I accidentally profess the depth of my feelings for you, you’d look into my eyes and tell me you feel the same way. Maybe I won’t see you at all. Maybe I had already missed our ending.
66 days and 89 miles from you. I search for your face in the stars. When I fail to see it, every speckle of light becomes a universe in which you and I co-exist as strangers, as friends, as lovers. It occurs to me that we might never be anything but in transition. Dread creeps in as I speed down the freeway. I stare ahead and there is only darkness.
I am wrapped in you. You ask me how long it’s been. It’s been anger and joy and triumph and doom. I’ve been watching the second-hand move for an eternity, trying to not let the tick get under my skin, waiting for it to bring me to you.
“Not that long,” I answer.
“It feels like you were gone for years.”
“So listen, I have to go back in a few months.”
“For how long?”
“Another year, or two.”
“Are you excited?”
“I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”
“You’re the one who keeps leaving.”
You’re inches away and unreachable. If I could fold the world so that my city lay on top of yours and me next to you. If I could leap across the Pacific Ocean and land outside your door. If you ask me to stay. Don’t ask me to stay. They tell me distance won’t matter if we really want to be together. They don’t know anything.