I miss the kind of closeness that already knows the weather in me

Dear Delyara, Not the kind that asks. The kind that already knows enough to adjust. The person who can hear the difference between my tired voice and my wounded one. The person who notices the shift without making it a scene. The person who can feel when I need fewer questions, slower language, simpler warmth. Not because they are magical. Because they know the climate of me well enough. That is the kind of closeness I feel myself missing more as I get older. Not more contact. More accurate contact. And there are days when the absence of that feels more painful than actual solitude.