September 13, 2016
18 days. Today we were at a wedding. You wore a simple blue dress, your favorite. In the car, you had on repeat a song you discovered last week. I love how you fixate on something. It used to grate on me, how you like repetition. But now it's something I can zone out. Is that a bad thing? At the reception we sat on opposite heads of a long table and I could barely hear your voice above the cacophony. I know though that you're talking about that song. I steal glances at you and feel gut-wrenching sadness.