Love is feeling the touch of an old friend's hand after years of distance. The relief of the first embrace in so long a time as hearts reunite... the feeling shrouds me, protects me. The anticipation and excitement have died down; all that remains is a rightness. Puzzle pieces -- treasures I entrusted to her with my last parting glance so long ago -- fit themselves back into their specified notches in my heart. I am complete, together. Her resting form slumped against me, breathing steady and slow, is peace. I cannot imagine an end to our time; I will not allow myself to imagine it. I love her, my dearest friend. I will keep my Mishy forever.
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