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.

Not two.

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.

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