Every time she smiled, he remembered Jamie’s smile. When he brushed her cheek with his hand, in his mind’s eye he was brushing Jamie’s soft cheek, caressing it with all of his love. Every time she laughed her high-pitched staccato laugh, he remembered Jamie’s rather low and flowing one. When she moved her hands as animatedly as she talked, he saw Jamie’s hands stuck awkwardly by their sides, or tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, as she quietly made an observation. Her bright blue eyes were Jamie’s soft hazel, and her pale fingers were Jamie’s tanned ones.
It got so that he had to stop himself before accidentally calling her “Jamie” by mistake, or referred to an event in his time with Jamie, instead of his time with her. He was like a child, comparing his first home to every place he moved to later on in life. There was a present only in the sense that it was not the past. The mention of a movie title brought on hours of reminiscing, and when he saw photos of certain cities, he saw Jamie standing in them, smiling shyly at the camera. Would he have been better off had Jamie never come into his life? He couldn’t honestly say. But for now, there was nothing to do but to smile at her jokes, hold her pale hand, chuckle along with her high-pitched laugh, and see Jamie there beside him, so close, and yet so far.