Sometimes at night I feel myself wide awake, and my thoughts slip back to him.

The way he would stroke the side of my face, and whisper quietly in my ear.
The times when he would walk by my house at 3 in the morning and we would just smile at each other through my window, with only the pale moonlight to outline our faces.
The things he shared with me that nobody else in the world knew about him.

But I remember the day when he pushed me away, and refused to tell me anything. I remember how he looked at me when I walked by, and realized the only reason I’d slowed my pace was so I could try to catch his gaze.

I remember when he told me that he still loved me.

Sometimes at night I feel myself wondering if he leaves his window open, just in case.