The morning after Sarah left...
...the girl roused from a fitful sleep in the early hours.
In the darkness of her bedroom, the LCD screen of her iPhone lit up as she clicked to check if any message had come in while she was sleeping.
Nothing.
She lay in bed, trying to fall back asleep. Something felt different; she didn't like it.
She didn't know it then, but she had adapted to Sarah's nightly routine of breaking her sleep into two, getting up hours before the sun rose to potter around for a bit before returning to bed.
It was those couple of hours every night that they would find themselves somehow meeting, heart to heart, mind to mind -- albeit in little bytes of Helvetica Neue on an LED-backlit screen.
Perhaps she was lonely. Perhaps she was lonely. Either way, it didn't matter, because here she was, tossing in bed, because once, for a little while, they shared their lives, but now, Sarah was gone.
***
That was her being melodramatic.
Sarah wasn't really gone; Sarah was on a holiday. In fact, Sarah would be back really soon.
The girl knew this, of course. But she had to scour for inspiration to churn out a romantic-sounding little piece befitting of the New York Times' Modern Love column.
She'd never quite make a Modern Love columnist; the girl knew this too, of course. She'd never have the patience for a lengthy, swoony pseudo-love story. But she didn't particularly care.
Really, the girl wrote because she thought of Sarah and she missed her.
(note: this piece of "fanfic" written upon request!)