Waking up and seeing the blankets and pillows all piled around like there was someone there and forgetting, just for a second, that there isn’t.ġ1.

Watching the leaves change, and then peak, and then fall.ġ0. A really good dessert that’s just too big for one person, the kind that they normally bring out with two spoons so the two of you would encourage the other to take another bite.ĩ. Riding alone on the subway at night and seeing the lights of the stations and tunnels pass by one after the other, and being rocked to sleep like a car ride when you were a little kid.Ĩ. The sound of people laughing together at a joke you’ll never quite hear, when their sense of closeness radiates outward and you feel like you can catch it for just a minute.ħ. Hearing that song come on unexpectedly, and feeling like I should text you to tell you that it came on, even though that’s an objectively silly thing to text someone over.Ħ. Sitting on a park bench and watching people walk by, children running to catch up with parents and couples leaning into one another as though everything they said was an inside joke just for the two of them.ĥ. When I read the menus to myself and look in the window at the waiters putting down the glasses and the silverware, and nothing feels rushed.Ĥ. When I’m walking down a street I don’t know at that perfect hour, right when the sun starts to go pink, trying to decide on a restaurant for dinner that night.ģ. Pulling an oversized sweater around me when it’s raining outside.Ģ. By Chelsea Fagan Updated November 6, 2018ġ.

It reminds me of you