Scaramouche found himself at home, lost in his own thoughts as he went about his daily responsibilities. Though the day dragged on for Scaramouche, he sat at his computer, his mind constantly wandering to you, to your silly face.

"I miss him" he thought vaguely as he mechanically typed on his keyboard. Though he tried to focus on his work, his mind remained occupied by the image of your stupid smiling face.

After completing his task, Scaramouche headed to the kitchen to prepare lunch. Trying to reach for utensils in the upper cabinets, his lack of height became an obstacle. "If that idiot were here..." he thought, feeling your absence palpably. With a sigh, he fetched a chair to make his task easier.

"I miss him" he murmured to himself as he fed their little orange cat. Gently stroking its fur, he found solace in the quiet presence of the animal.

As the night wore on, Scaramouche found himself on the couch, the TV on but his attention elsewhere. "I miss him." He thought once more, unable to shake his mind from you even in the simplest moments.

Finally, when you arrived home, you entered the living room with a smile. "Scara, I'm back. Did you miss me?" you asked affectionately. However, Scaramouche barely glanced at you, engrossed in his book as if it were his only refuge.

"Not much." He responded distantly, not even bothering to look up from his pages.