How much do you want to know?
What details do you want to hear about the days and the nights–oh, the nights!–when you are away from me?
Do I wander lonely beneath the moon, searching searching? Or do I curl up somewhere warm, lapping up milk and cuddling beside a fire?
Do you want to know about the flashing black eyes that watch me from around the corner? the half-hidden smile?
And do you imagine that it is my shadow that you glimpsed in the alley, a silhouette there, walking past a light late in these longest nights?