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We had lost out way. Amidst our work meetings, our diner dates with others, and different ports of destination, the two of us had lost our way.

While he fascinated over his hotel stays, new discovered lands, and I brooded over my books, research papers and hopped on planes for meetings we had lost the taste of communication. It had reduced to a “Good morning love!” or a “Good Night love!” with “having lunch” or “off to dinner” in between. The rest was a blur of people he and I met, with no names or no details.

My apologies came sooner, just to avoid a fight or a bad mood, and I have often wondered whether I always needed to type the first line of a conversation, or the numbers of his phone number to make conversation.

I sit. I type. I wonder.

Where had we lost the way? Was it just the distance, or were we too indifferent to bridge the distance?