by Joshua Paul Greene
Right now it should be raining. And I should be in the small, dimly lit coffee shop on the busiest corner of a bustling, east-coast town. There’s a girl I should be sitting across from and there’s a feeling in my heart that should be present: calm.
But instead, I’m in a different coffee shop, in a different town, and the girl is nowhere to be seen. She’s still in my heart. My words to her sit on a page in an envelope to my right and these days, my mind rarely wanders for more than a few minutes before returning to her. The greatest hardship of a distant love is not the lack of communication but rather the limitations of physical expression. To just look in to her eyes and bask in her smile would be the greatest thing in the world.
But instead I’m 800 miles away with no hope of seeing her face for a painfully indistinguishable amount of time.