It lives in my body. The space. Not as pain or weight, but as gentle vacuum. And only when I look at it. Like now. Feeling you near and far. The sound of your name as I breathe it. Whispers in a half understood language. Tears of joy and sorrow. Swoon of separation. Writing these words, as though you might hear them. On a crisp and clear winter night. When we could be together in sunshine.