• I stare at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance, born from the headlights of the cars outside as they pass my window. I am sprawled across my bed, mussing the sheets with every twitch as my head turns to stare at the door, instinctively watching for you. I am tired of this place, this life. Tired of it all. But you left me with some hope that I would see you again.

    I close my eyes and think. I try to remember your face as I once knew it, young and happy, but deep, as if it held a secret I had to discover. No matter how far into my memory I delve, I cannot find your eyes. I remember your smile. I remember your laugh. I remember the way your hair never looked neat. But I like it that way.

    I put it all together and try to find your face. There it is, but I still can’t find your eyes. Digging deeper, I find your laugh. I play it over and over in my head, and the corners of my mouth twitch up. I still can’t smile. Not like you.

    I roll over onto my stomach and grab my pillow, shoving it down over my head, covering my ears. I don’t want to hear the noise of the highway. All I want to hear is you. But then the door opens and light floods the room. A dark figure leans in. I can’t see who it is, but I can tell by the voice.

    “It’s time to go,” they say. I nod. I get off the bed and get my suitcase. They help me carry my things out to the car and put them in the trunk. I hate moving constantly, but it’s necessary…or so you say. I’m beginning to wonder if you really knew what you were talking about.

    The day you left, you told me to wait. Promised you’d be back. I’ve held that promise close like it was keeping me alive. Maybe it was.

    The man holds open the car door for me. I lower myself into it and he closes the door. I lean my head against the head rest and sigh. Once more, I am moving. You won’t let me stay in the same place for too long. The car shakes a little as the man gets behind the wheel and shuts his door. He turns the key in the ignition and we start to inch forward.

    The hairs on the back of my neck bristle, making me feel as though someone is watching me. I turn my head and see the other car that I travel with, but nothing else. It disappoints me. I long for something exciting to happen in my life. Since you left, I’ve been sheltered, so I can’t have that. Things get boring after a while.

    We pull onto a dirt road and turn, and in my peripheral, I see something. I look, and see the silhouette of a man, but he is gone in a millisecond. The headlights of the second car shine on him again, and he moves, but I saw him.

    Was that you? Are you watching me? Protecting me? Why won’t you let me see your face? The man’s fingers twitched like yours do. I know it’s you.

    I smile and turn away, leaning back into my seat and reaching for the seatbelt. What you don’t know is I’ll wait. For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.