Here I am, walking back home, alone. It’s Sunday, 11:49 PM. I am too sober to say I’m drunk, too drunk to say I’m tipsy. And I feel sad. Across the Atlantic and the North Sea, she’s still sleeping in the bed that three weeks ago we still shared.
It’s been a complicated year. Shit, it’s been a complicated life. Friends, family, girlfriend, lovers. No one could erase this loneliness. Not until she came along.
Home. I turn on the lights. From the door I can see my messy bed. In ten more days, our messy bed. For good.