Dear Ben,

I dreamt once that I lost you. We were on icebergs. And I can’t remember if you were floating away from me, or I was floating away from you. But I remember waking up beside you. It was the middle of the night and it was raining, like tonight. And I heard your breathing, calming me. It was like we could speak without words. I wonder how and when we learned this secret language. Was it in between the lines you wrote so long ago in my yearbook? Were we whispering it to each other while we became friends? I only know that at some point, in the silences, I heard you. And now I’m left with words, these useless words, when all I want is to be beside you again. To time my breathing with yours. To make you feel safe, to help you sleep. To bring you back to me.