My lover will be absent from my bed tonight and I shall miss him very much. The scent of his skin, the warmth of his body against mine, the feel of the hair on the nape of his neck. Oh, I shall make do with a bottle of wine and a slice of gateau au chocolat, a scented bath and an old French film. But I'll ache at bedtime, slipping between cool sheets and finding an unaccustomed space. I'll whisper "tomorrow" and dream of his body entering mine.