counting down the days (again)
Every month feels like déjà vu, same routine, same countdown, same flutter in my chest as the date gets closer. I wait for the day I can finally pack my bag and board that flight to KK. Usually it’s just three days and two nights (short, too short!!). And once in a while, if life is kind, we get a full week together. Rare , but worth every tick of the clock. The day I fly to KK always feels electric. I wake up lighter, faster, happier. The thought of seeing him again makes everything else fade into the background. Those days together feel like a reset, we talk, laugh, eat, and I unload all the stories I’ve been saving for weeks, the ones I always say, “I’ll tell you when I see you,” because some things just don’t belong in calls or texts. But then, as always, comes the night before I have to go back. That quiet, heavy moment no one talks about. The air feels different. Slower, heavier like time itself doesn’t want to move forward. I’ll look at ...