My TA has been gone the first of three weeks: planned fieldwork at the Martian deep space communication array. When did I become so accustomed to the cheer of her presence?
I sigh, catch myself doing so, and straighten my tense shoulders.
Impulsively, I throw open my office window and the spring air and chattering birdsong rushes in. I close my eyes, breathing in the cool flower scented air.
She would relish this day; she would have turned in surprise at my action, her long dark hair swinging over her shoulder, her full lips pursing in curiosity.
I miss her.