Distance

Shaun told his friend how he felt. He told him in a letter, with words that painted a picture fit for exhibition. A year. Or close enough to 12 months that it felt like it might as well have been a year. That’s how long Trevor was supposed to be abroad. Nevertheless, I was surprised when Shaun told me in all seriousness that he wanted to forget about the person he’d confessed his love to just a week prior.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“He’s just always on my mind.”

Shaun had told me this before so it wasn’t news. But now, Trevor was no longer in Shaun’s hugging distance. I knew he’d be hurting. I went through the same thing. After spending all of your free time with someone and growing to like them as more than a friend, the sudden distance teaches you the true meaning of missing.

“Have you dreamt about him?” I asked.

“A lot.” Shaun answered. “Yesterday too.”

“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“It was weird. He didn’t have the same face or the same body but I knew it was him. I just rushed to him for a hug.”

“I can tell you really miss him.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you need to work through it instead of getting over it?”

“How? He already knows how I feel but he hasn’t given me the attention. I can’t stand it.”

“Give it some time. You’ll be fine.”