Of course you’re going to leave. Everyone leaves eventually. Maybe drawing you, commiting you to paper, will keep your essence as it is today – still in love with me – and at least it will stay with me long after you’ve faded and left.

I always build people up like I build up a drawing. At the base is a graceful form of light lines, circles and swoops, representing first impressions. Then come more detailed shapes representing scaffolding and ligature: our common interests. Then comes the fine lines of your skin, that gleam in your eye, the way the corner of your mouth squinches up when you smile – the details you only get when you’ve brushed your teeth next to each other and giggle when you fart in each others’ presence.

If I had to draw you from memory, I could. That mole between your breasts – I know its location like the north star. Even now that you’re gone, I could draw your eyes looking at me with disappointment, your brow furrowed and mouth downturned, your hair swinging as you turn to leave.