I am your tourist.
The next time I say I hate you, I mean that I hate 900 miles.
The next time I say this is hard, I mean that 900 miles is hard.
The next time I say I'm frustrated, I mean that I'm frustrated with 900 miles.
. . .
Somehow, for no reason at all, or for a very specific reason, I smile because of you.
Right now, I'm smiling.
When I slip into bed, I'll smile.
Getting into the shower tomorrow morning, I'm going to smile.
And even when I get into work tomorrow, and I see it over and over, I'll smile.
I want to.
Yes.
. . .
I'm doing it again.