7:30
You wake, blinking blearily down at me. I light up at your attention.
You do not resist the urge to touch my cheek – so I lean closer.

7:42
You’re clingy. As always. Can’t even spend a few minutes in the bathroom alone.
I watch you brush your teeth, but instead of your mirror you look at me. A touch and you turn away, the corners of your lips lifting.
You finger-comb through the tangles of your hair; I think about how those curls would look with that gold hair clasp I’d picked for you.
You stand in the mirror, dragging me over so I can give my opinions on your outfit. I’m good at giving you fashion advice and, as you like to say, charming you into buying unnecessary garments.
I tell you to choose the sundress, and buy a matching sun hat later. You say it’s as though I can read your mind.
I steal your first laugh of the day. It’s not a rare occurrence, but I’m still a little proud.

8:04
Breakfast. Avocado toast! The very one I’ve been bugging you about for the past week. I saw you drooling over it too last Friday.
Now hurry – you’re gonna be late if you don’t get out in ten minutes.

8:17
We’re ready. I trail you out the door, clad in the same coat as always – ever since you chose it for me two years ago, I’ve been wearing it dutifully, almost religiously. To show that I’m yours.
It’s only a few steps down the stairs, but you still felt the urge to check that I’m with you. I know – the last incident had shaken you. You don’t want to lose me again. I still have scars down my chest.

8:29
It was a near thing. Five more seconds and you would have been late! Thank goodness that kind lady held out the door for you. You recount the story – as though imprinting pieces of yourself onto me, to mark me as your own.
We say goodbye.
Now all’s dark for me.

9:33
You finally find time for me. It’s been an hour.
It’s a little exciting, isn’t it, stealing time during work? I miss you. Miss the intimacy between us, sweaty palms touching. Your stifled giggles, an unconscious thumb brushing over my cheeks.

10:20
Still dark and alone.
Do you remember that meeting? It was supposed to happen ten minutes ago. I hope you did.

11:00
It’s been too long. I call out to you but you don’t answer.

11:58
You’re back and I try to be angry, but you’re sharing your lunch with me and I forget my anger.
Now you’re showing me your desktop arrangements. Your new pen. Your friend from the office next door. You tell me about the meeting you almost missed, because I wasn’t able to remind you. You regret leaving me behind.
You tell me about your entire morning at work: your coworker’s gossip, the annoying customer who doesn’t know a thing they’re talking about, how you snuck me into your office and we laughed together for half an hour.
I want to tell you to stay with me forever; forget that stupid coworker. I can be the one giving you advice on your assignment and show recommendations, I can relay your messages to them. But I know you won’t listen, so I only tell you about that show your friend watched. I know it better than them.
You tell me about your entire day. You share your breakfast again. Your hairstyle, the one I helped you choose. The gold hair clasp you want to buy this afternoon.
I try to resist the urge to rip that pearl earring from your hands, the ones inherited from your parents. They’re not good for you: each time you come back from talking to them, you’re stressed and you rant at me for half the night.
You’re still chattering away, painting images I wish I can experience too, for myself. That pool party you went to last week – I had to miss it because of my old injury. I repress my jealousy against your friends who had seen you in that beautiful bikini. I repress my jealousy against you for being able to wear that bikini.
But I let you speak on. It’s as though you’re determined to jam every piece of your life into me, as though that would mark me as yours. As though I would never leave you again if your stamp on me sinks deep enough. Sometimes I want to do that too – make sure every one of your choices has some shadow of myself in it. I want every strand of your hair to be laced through with me. I want you to own me.
But what if – and I’ve been thinking about this – you just need something, some record, to prove your existence? What if that’s all I am to you?
It can’t be. For you’re a record of my existence, too.

13:40
You find me again. A quick touch to the cheek. But this time, I do not light up immediately. I want you to work for it, I want myself to no longer be the pet wagging their tail for their owner’s affection.
But in the end, I do it again. I light up for you, and only when I see you, too, eyes and face brightening in my presence, do I feel satisfaction. Good.

15:23
You’re holding me a little too tight after another two hours apart. You search my face voraciously, as though looking for something that’s not there. Is it love you seek? Validation? Proof that you’re real, I’m real, the romance you’re so entranced by is real?
Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t the same to me, if you aren’t the same as me. Do you miss me then? Do you miss the old you in the mirror, the one no longer found in my gaze?
I hope you missed me. I hope I am enough to change you.
Is that not the true romance? You and I, forever entangled in each other. You will never be able to leave me now.

17:12
You say goodbye to your coworkers. I watch you smile at them and think of all the times you laughed with me. Your guffaw, the one you would never show to anyone. The grin that makes your eyes crescent moons. How tiny blemishes touch your cheeks, untouched by makeup, light smears like shooting stars. The stardust falling from your glowing, scrunched-up face.
I capture your face, carve every dark smudge and crease into my mind. I sketch the way you laugh and sleep and drop all pretense when you are alone. I make myself a mold for you, so that you can be molded by me. I want to scatter every bit of you into puzzle pieces and devour them, or lock them up in glass displays.
You complain to me that your stomach is grumbling. So I store that huffled tone into my memory, and suggest a restaurant downtown for dinner. Just you and me.

18:47
We’re there. You’ve changed into a more fitted dress, at my advice. You’re the one who asked me for recommendations, yet you call my lengthy explanations boring and choose the most popular option instead. I push down my annoyance.
You spend an excessive amount of time pushing the decorated dishes under my nose. I refuse to cooperate and you seem to get the hint. You spend the rest of the dinner in silence.
At least you enjoyed the food. Left a five-star review.

20:16
Home again. Face-mask, pajamas, pillows – all approved by me.
I forgive you immediately – curse my weak will – and spend a happy moment with you lying shoulder-to-shoulder.

22:49
You fell asleep. Missed a few calls. Lost a few hours.
Now I’m left forgotten by your side as you scramble to catch up with the emails and documents you were supposed to have dealt with before dinner.
When I try to offer some comfort, a quick laugh, a way to relax, you turn away. Blaming me for not waking you. Calling me distracting.
I turn my back on you and stay in the darkness, far from the warm glow of your bedside lamp.

22:53
I can’t believe– you pushed me down the sofa!
I’m done with this. I’m done.

22:57
No matter what you do, I won’t open up again.
I left a red mark on your shoulder when you tried to wrap your arms around me again.

23:25
You’re back. You’re mine again – I see you bearing a peace offering, steaming hot chocolate in hand (I bought that package of cocoa powder and gave you the mug). Offering me a bath, and putting me back together with tape and gauze.
I admit, I missed your hugs. Your soft hands, warm palm. Your gentle voice and the love in your eyes.
You could not afford to replace me. (I cannot afford for you to leave me.) You promise to treat me better. (You are mine, and I yours.)
Your eyes, transfixed on mine, are a better promise than anything said out loud.

23:58
Your eyelids droop in fatigue, yet you keep them fixed on me.
You hold me. Tight.
I remember all those nights, just you and me, side by side, light in the darkness.
I am the only one, always. The tears you’ve shed under so many dejected moons, rolling across my own cheeks, is testament to that.
You keep a hand on my pulse. I keep an eye on your sleeping face.

00:00
A nightmare. You wake in cold sweat.
I am there for you – a light in the darkness.
You touch your finger to the pulse at the crook of my neck, my life and mortality compressed into a single pulsing swell. I trust you with it. I trust you with my life.
And you press down, hard.