Tuesday, October 1, 2013
People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3AM is the romantic equivalent of being lonely.
But sometimes it is 9AM on a Tuesday morning and you're standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up.
And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much.
You just don't know what to do with your hands.
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