missing what I never really had.

He talked about a woman he knew just moments before, it was in the kitchen. She said somewhere far away, she missed what she never really had. It summed him up like a pair of nicely fit jeans.
When he turned around she was there, just pixels and light thinking his thoughts for him around the same time.
It made him feel better or worse, less alone or more. He was lonely far inside himself, on the shelf where he kept his most secret feelings (its somewhere through his middle, near the stomach) the place he can breathe to if he tries really hard or not at all.
He stared at the pixels and light and guessed he would feel like that at least for the rest of the evening, it had been months already.