In the before times, we saw each other every week. Your eyes sparkled. We connected, shared a laugh, had an easy friendship.
Now, I send you a word in the morning. I watch for triple word spaces, double letter tiles, and sneaky ways to use J or Q. You’ll add an S to my nouns, I’ll add an ING to your verbs. It’s like skipping a stone to you, across the water, or whistling to the other side of the cul-de-sac.
I haven’t seen you in almost three years. But each of your turns is a message. “I’m still here.”