I don’t know if I miss you or if I miss the idea of you. I don’t know if I miss when you surprised me over coffee or if I miss wondering if you would. I don’t know if I miss your arguments or if I miss coming up with rebuttals. Mostly, though, I miss laughing and I miss you. I do really think I miss you. But your heart was there all along wasn’t it: with your family and on the beaches. That’s why you showed me the apartments and told me of your future dreams of places and puppies. You were missing aloud and I was just the listener. Now there’s no apartments, only partings and this is the second time I’ve cried about it and that’s a lot for me and I’d never admit it to your face but I do miss you and I think you’re a good man. I think you’ll have a grand life and people will listen to you and you’ll bring them His joy and you’ll make them laugh, because you are good at that. I don’t know why this is especially difficult for me but I know we must part, we have parted, but I refuse to bid you farewell. Be free, be joy, but be not a stranger, for I miss you. That’s all.