Dear Henry,
Norway seems a world away. The autumn leaves are falling here, painting the streets in shades of gold and red. I wonder if your new home is already blanketed in snow, if you're watching the Northern Lights dance across the sky without me.
I miss your laugh echoing down our favourite café's street. The city feels emptier without you, as if it's lost its heartbeat. I find myself walking our old routes, half expecting to see you around each corner. But you're never there, and the disappointment cuts deeper each time.
The spaces you used to fill are now gaping voids. Our usual table at the café sits empty, the bookstore where we spent countless hours reading now feels cold. Even the air seems different, missing the energy you always brought with you. I can't shake this feeling of incompleteness, like a vital part of me has gone missing. It's strange how your absence has made me acutely aware of your presence in every aspect of my life. I find myself turning to share a joke, only to remember you're not here to laugh with me.
You once said I hung the moon for you, that I was the light in your darkest nights. Now, I look up at night and wonder if you see the same one I do. Does it shine as brightly for you there? Do you think of me when you see it, when its gentle glow touches your face, or am I already fading from your memory like mist in the morning sun?
Is this what missing a best friend feels like?
Stay warm, and don't forget me,
Celine
August 2014
