Even though he wanted to say, “I love you. I miss you,” he actually said, “make sure you take the garbage out and buy low-fat milk instead of full-cream.”

He consoled himself that she knew what he really meant. Those were words. Just words. The feeling behind them was important. He could easily have said what he had wanted to say and nothing would be any different between them. A hand around the receiver, the wire coiled around his arm and his eyes looking out the frosted window, he waited for the familiar response.

“I love you. I miss you.”