I miss being expected in the room by one particular person

Dear Delyara, That’s the loneliness of it some days. Not romance. Not even conversation. Expectation. Someone whose body and day had already made a space for mine without effort. Someone for whom my presence was woven into the ordinary architecture of evening. The kettle, the chair, the timing, the silence — all of it quietly assumed me. That kind of absence is hard to explain because it hides inside small things. Still, the body feels it immediately.