September 3rd – 22:43pm
He arrives home late again.
I watch him glance indifferently in my direction. I blush, shying from his gaze, and move into the next room as soundlessly as possible.
He doesn’t follow.
Instead, I sit alone on the edge of our bed, in the centre of our bedroom, in the middle of our house.
I hear his muffled tones through thin walls; perhaps speaking on the phone. Another important business call.
Who is it? I have no idea. And probably never will.
The mess that surrounds me ignites a painful realisation that the love we once shared has run out of time.
Because that love belonged in one place only. I sigh, looking down at my own chest.
The door closes. I close my eyes.
September 4th – 00:52am
They key turns in the lock of the door to our apartment. She sits, comfortably, reading a book of some kind. I rub my tired eyes, yawning, and then look back in her direction.
But she’s gone.
She doesn’t want me to follow. She wants to be alone.
I hear her nestling into our bed, and imagine myself spending another sleepless night on the sofa. Out of nowhere, I begin to cry; sobbing uncontrollably, I move into the next room to subdue the sound.
She closes the door. My heart hurts just thinking about it.
I regain composure and walk back towards the entrance of our bedroom. The door opens easily – there are clothes strewn everywhere; a labyrinth of fury and passion.
Another man? I hold my breath and cast my gaze over her sleeping self.
When is she going to realise that she is all I need? I ask myself, exhausted.
I bury my feelings and close the door for the last time.