The door opens and I look behind me, even though I know it isn't you.
Dismayed, I turn back to my book and wrap my hands around a chai tea latte. Even its warmth reminds me of you; your strong hands holding my cold fingers and bringing them to the warmth of your lips.
Class begins without you, and my gaze drifts beyond the window to other places. I glance at the professor and she smiles at me as though she knows.
I try to focus as we begin an activity in the book.
Senora flips through note cards to call on students.
"Eric," she pauses. "He's not here."
"Wrong," I think, and settle my thoughts with the sound of my heartbeat.
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