The face that I see when I look in the mirror at your house - or even my house, with you - is far more beautiful than the one that is without you.

This is the face that has been stripped of all pretence and pretention, smoothed of the creases born of continual separation, a face of eased fears. The eyes that look at you shine brighter, the smile I give to you is more genuine.

This face is, in a way, not mine. And also, more true to myself than at any other time. And I know, from the way you look at me, that this is what you see, every time you look at me, because, with you, it is impossible to be any other way.