Sometimes I see someone who moves like him, and then I look closer and it isn't him at all, and then I remember, of course it isn't. But that's what I remember most, the way he moved, so relaxed he almost seemed asleep. I remember the way the sleeves of his jumpers always used to be stretched, far longer than his arms. I remember getting very stoned with him and giggling long into the night. I remember the smell of him. I remember helping him to clean the blood off his arms. I remember fucking him, every time telling myself it would be the last time. I remember bitching with him, he was always far more imaginatively insulting than me. I remember helping him with his maths, and trying to persuade him to get up in the morning and go to lectures. I remember waking up a few hours later, and realising that we'd both slept through our lectures.

I miss him too.