The watcher

It's not even a month since the separation, and I haven't gotten used to sleeping alone yet. I can't imagine I ever will. On a purely physical level, I miss Peter. Even the first night we slept together, it was like our bodies had found their way home, as if they had slipped into each other's nooks and filled each other's crannies. I'd slept in different people's arms before, but I'd never experienced anything like this. Peter felt it, too. "We're like a puzzle," he whispered into my ear, "with only two pieces."