It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him, smelt his cologne, felt his presence. He’s much older than me; he walks with a confident demeanour, gently etched muscles and dark exotic features. I’ve just moved into my new apartment, frantically trying to find where I’ve put my favourite sweater when my phone vibrates. I peer down at my phone and see his name in the message bubble on the screen. My heart skips a small beat. I’ve been hoping for him to contact me for what feels like forever. I miss him more than he could understand, even though I was the...
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