On some nights we get to see each other via Skype, but it’s not the same as being here with him in the same room, sitting on the same couch, breathing the same air, sharing the same space. Via Skype, I can’t hold his hand or lean on his shoulder or share in his warmth. I can’t bury my face in the crook of his neck, wanting to tell him all I feel for him with touch alone.
“I missed you,” I say, finally admitting what he knew all along, taking Maki on my lap and brushing his curls. They’re getting long. The dogs will have to go to the groomers soon.
He turns to me, while cuddling Sushi on his lap, the lucky girl. “We’ll find a way,” he says, making a promise.
After we finish our bowls of ginataan and share as much as we can with the little time that we have, he looks at the clock then at
