CHOCOLATE AND CHERRIES

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my mouth dry no matter how much water I drank.

I was dark, and I was sitting at my desk with my bright laptop lights illuminating my face.

I found him, I can’t believe I found him. It was all coming back to me, clear as day.

Even though I can’t fully picture his face, and I forgot how his voice sounded. I still knew he was there, waiting for me, and I was waiting for him.

When he left all those years ago. I lost a part of myself. I stumbled around this world numb, not knowing who I was.

Because I lost him.

And he was found again.

Now I was sitting dumbfounded in my chair, trying to come up with something to say to him, try and convey all the emotions I felt. What I felt after he left, and what I felt when I found his profile picture.

He looked great, he looked amazing. Maybe even better if that was possible. My Tommy.

My everything.

I started to type, my words flowing out in front of me.

>Hey Tommy, it’s me, Jake. Do you remember me? I remember our days spent on the beach, sitting in the sand with our hands intertwined and staring into the sunset. We’d get drunk on the weekends, stealing bottles of wine from your parent’s cooler and make out in your room.

>I remember when we’d go to the orchards on the outskirts of the city, claiming the trees and picking cherries. You’d laugh and fall into my arms after your basket was filled, we’d indulge in the dark chocolate the owners gave us. I miss those days.

>I miss you so much, I never stopped missing you, or wondering where you went. I kept reaching out to you but I stopped once the number was disabled. Did you get a new phone?

>My heart never stopped aching for you, I was lost without you and even if you’ve moved on, I still want you to know that I miss you, and I love you.

>I’ll never stop, I’ll always be there for you. I hope you return the same sentiment and your new home is treating you well. I would love it if you’d respond.

Love, Jake.

I pressed send and waited for him to answer, hoping, pleading. I needed to know how he was.

Please don’t make me wait.

Please.