Author's Note: I wanted to try my hand at writing a drabble. I have to admit that I am hampered by the fact that I'm not quite sure what a drabble is, but hey, here is my attempt.

Where are You?

We sit here, eating a dinner I made especially for you. I am alone. I can see this; feel this as you smile at me, laughing at something I've said.

Where are you?

We sit in my dining room, eating and talking, drinking the wine I bought especially for this occasion. I see your eyes and I try to smile as you stare at me. You aren't here. Who are you with? Are you with the mother of your child?

Or is it someone else?

We move to the kitchen where you help me clean up, our hands touch as you hand me a dirty plate. You smile at my paltry excuse when I drop it, and then hug me when my tears start to fall. "It's okay," you tell me as you sweep up the shards, but you aren't here.

Who are you with?

It feels nice having you sit close to me on the couch. You are attentive and your kiss is sweet. But I can tell you are not here with me. You are here with me, but you are not.

Where are you?