Strange Lover

Strange Lover
Photo by Jeremy Bishop / Unsplash

Everyday as soon as I sit down with my laptop to work, you stare at me from the opposite side. Distracted, I sometimes look away and try to concentrate on the day’s events. But you continue to stay there, shifting an inch by the minute to get a better view of me.

I would be lying if I said I didn't find you pretty or alluring or both.

Of course I am attracted to you, which is why I try to keep you in my vicinity by moving an inch myself. I love your blues and hues, the whites and lights — mostly the colour of ink, sometimes pink — the types, sizes and shapes of attire you proudly sport each day. You are a work of art.

Sometimes I wish I could look at you the entire day, but strangely, I don’t see you after dark.

I wonder where you go.

I wait for you everyday. I wait for the mornings to come. I miss you on weekends. I can’t swipe pictures of you on my smartphone to see how you look, it would never be as interesting. Or as new to me as you always are, each day. Sometimes you surprise me with so much colour around you that I always adjust my seating position in my cubicle to believe if it really is you in your spot.

And then you cry it out when I least expect it, changing my mood instantly.

I am writing this today because I do not see you where you usually are.

It’s becoming dark and I am afraid you are going to spit out sharp bell pins, miring the ground beneath my feet as I walk back home.

I miss you, my dear sunset as you reflect as a glare in the dark spaces of my work laptop. I miss you from nature’s beautifully crafted canvas — the sky.

Come back soon, love.