I miss you most at night. When I’m lying alone in my bed.
Waking up in the middle of the night and staring into a wall.
Walking down the street, behind a couple holding hands.
People speaking English in the busses.
Dogs that look like Sascha.
Heatwaves in the Netherlands.
Racks of sauces in the stores.
Sipping tea.
The Swedish chef.
And your warmth. Especially at night.

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