I wake up with my phone already in my hand.
I don’t remember picking it up.
That’s how you know something is wrong. Or important. Or both.
My eyes are still half closed but I unlock it anyway, like muscle memory, like habit, like I already know what I’m looking for.
Ethan.
2:14 a.m.
Miss you.
I stare at it.
Just those two words.
No explanation. No context. No nothing.
My chest does something small. Not dramatic. Just… tight. Like a quiet squeeze I don’t know how to name.
I read it again.
Miss you.
I should smile. I think. I should feel something soft and obvious and easy.
Instead I just sit there, blanket twisted around my legs, hair everywhere, heart doing something confusing.
Because I miss him too.
I just don’t know what that means anymore.
I type.
I miss you too.
I l
