M

It seems that it should be vague and undetectable. Like a hint of something on a soft breeze. A faint whisper, an imagined sound. It isn't covert, it doesn't hide. Like a taste of bitter wine, the inhalation of a pungent flower. It is tangible. It is relentless, consuming, and deceiving. I wrap it around me like a cloak. I cannot elude it. My only escape is sleep, a blissful retreat. I drift off and for a time it is powerless. But as I wake, there is my steadfast friend. I miss you, again.