I miss waking up to your notifications and then realizing it's you.

I miss your forehead on my shoulder when we watch the news.

I miss you more when I pass the bench where you kissed me.

I miss the small apology texts you send after you curse at traffic.

I miss your mess on the desk that somehow always has the pen I need.

I miss learning a new bad habit every week because of you.

I miss the way you make cereal and forget to add milk sometimes.

I miss your half-finished sentences that I can finish for you.

I miss you in the middle of a joke that only we laugh at.

I miss the way you answer the door with your hair still messy.

I miss pressing my phone to my ear and hearing you breathe.

I miss the smell of your jacket when I open the closet.

I miss the way you leave crumbs on the counter and then blame the cat.

I miss the creak you make on the steps when you come home.

I miss you more at 3 a.m. when the house is quiet.

I am holding out hope you'll call tonight, even if it's only to say goodbye properly.

I put your worn paperback on the shelf by the window where you liked it.

I forgive you for the small things that kept piling up between us.

I scribbled the recipe you liked on the back of an envelope and left it on the stove.

I left the spare sunglasses in the glove compartment like you always ask me to.

I am tired of pretending I'm okay, so I'm telling you: I'm not.

Please take the dented tin of coins from the jar if you want the luck.

I will miss waking up to the smell of your coffee more than I thought I would.

I folded your letter into the back pocket of the jacket I borrowed from you.

I saved the receipt from the camera shop where you fixed the strap.

Don't drive too fast today; I can't stand picturing you on that road.

I kept your playlist on shuffle so I can hear you in short bursts.

Take the houseplant that keeps surviving my lack of water — it needs you more.

I will remember your shoelace knot because it's how you tie every morning.

I'm sorry for the nights I woke you to ask small stupid questions.

I tucked the spare chargers together in the pouch with the stickers.

I wish I could sit beside you one more time and not say anything at all.

I called the vet and left a message about Milo; don't freak out on the drive.

I wrapped your headphones in the drawer so they won't fray in transit.

I am thinking of you now, plain and heavy, and that thought won't leave me.

Take the spare key on the hook under the fern if you need to come back for something.

I'm glad we argued and said the hard things; I needed that honesty before goodbye.

I left a note in your wallet by the receipt for the burger place.

I don't know how long this is; I'm scared but I believe you'll be okay.

I wish I had packed your shirts less messily, you'll know where to find them.