Fresh today · Saturday, 27 June

New Wishes

A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.

Drawn at dawn
Wishes in the library
92,976

You're absent in the way a missing tooth is — I keep finding the spot.

Missing you isn't loud anymore, but it's always there, like a low hum.

The coffee tastes like it knows you're not across from me.

I miss the small you — the way you stir tea, the way you sigh.

Your side of every conversation has gone quiet, and I notice.

Miss you the way a window misses curtains — uncovered, exposed.

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What are we writing today?

Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.

More from today

I keep almost texting you about nothing. That's the worst part.

The days are passing politely without you, and I resent them for it.

I miss you in supermarket aisles, of all places.

Your laugh is missing from the soundtrack of this week.

Miss you — gently, persistently, like rain on a closed window.

I miss you in the spaces between words, where you used to live.

The chair you always picked is still empty, and so am I, a little.

I forget you're not here, then I remember, then I miss you again.

Missing you is the slowest, longest kind of waiting.

I keep your favorite mug clean, just in case.

There's a you-shaped silence in the middle of my evenings.

I miss you the most at the moments I'd want to share with you.

Distance is doing its worst, and I'm letting it.

Your absence has its own shape now, and I trip over it daily.

Miss you so much the calendar feels heavier.

I'd give a lot for one of those long, easy afternoons we used to waste.

Come back when you can. The house is keeping your spot.

Missing you is the most ordinary, most insistent thing I do all day.

A rose, and a quiet I miss you that's been sitting on my chest all week.