“I love knowing that people miss me,” he smiled as he sipped his coffee, flipping the sun yellowed page in his latest conquest. “I like knowing that people are thinking about me,” he glanced up, looking over at her.
“Really,” genuine surprise. “I hate it.”
“I know what it’s like to miss someone. I hate hearing those words; I know how much it hurts to feel them.” She crossed her hands on the counter.
“I never thought about it like that.”
“I’m not surprised,” she shrugged simply.
“Because you don’t think about it like that until you miss someone all the time.”