Almost.

sometimes, I swear I can feel you. Not in a dream, not in memory— but here. Now. Like if I turned just fast enough, I’d catch you tail wagging, eyes shining, waiting for me to see you again. My hand remembers the weight of your head, the soft fur under my fingers, the way you leaned into me like you knew I needed you before I even said a word. And still, my fingers twitch— they reach out in the dark to pet you like nothing has changed. But you’re not there. And I know that. And it hurts. Yet somehow, it feels like you are. In the quiet. In the air. In the space beside me that still feels full even though it's empty. You are in the almost. The almost-there. The not-gone-enough-to-forget, not-here-enough-to-hold. And maybe, that’s love’s way of not letting go all at once. So I’ll keep reaching. And maybe someday, I’ll reach far enough to feel you again.