I came back exhausted, but happy, from my late night walk around Frederiksberg. My anxiety was in check and that meant that, at last, I could sleep for a few hours. A win, for sure. And in the cold of the streets, a hygge memory crossed my mind. It was some random Wednesday evening, back in 2019. I was coming back from Mundo Lingo, a language exchange event where I would usually go to hang out with my friends. I had had a couple of beers and felt cold and tired riding my bike, but it was all gonna be worth it, that particular night. I was headed towards the fancier part of town, to where my ex C was living at the time. I sneaked, silently, into her apartment. All the lights were off. While in total darkness, I brushed my teeth in her kitchen sink, got my clothes off and went into her bedroom and between her sheets. It was such an amazing feeling. Partly asleep, she welcomed my embrace, as I spooned her from behind. We cuddled up all night, as we always did when we spent the night together. And as I snapped slowly out of this memento, getting into my fancy, yet damn cold and lonely bed of 2022, I still recalled that warm feeling of yesteryear. I could almost smell her hair, and feel the texture of the old t-shirt she wore when she slept alone. Fuck. I would have married that fucking spoon. Those fucking cuddles and kisses in the dark. That goddamn messy hair and sleepy smile of the morning after. And the sex. The coffee, the soft-boiled eggs, the talks about nothing. Her soft hand, reaching mine from across the table. The taking turns to take a shit right after breakfast. Sitting on her yellow sofa, under a blanket, playing on my phone while she read her weekend newspaper. Staring at her and feeling lucky, despite of whatever was fucking over our relationship. Observing every detail of her face, as if trying to never forget her beauty. Because she was so fucking beautiful. To me, at least, she really was. So no wonder today, this boring Sunday afternoon, I went through all of the pictures we exchanged on WhatsApp. That smile would have made the gods human; fragile and vulnerable. That smile did me in. But by now, the strong winds of Copenhagen have blown away the remaining ashes of our time together, far into the sky. There’s nothing fucking left. Nothing but the damn pictures and the memories of a relationship that keeps getting buried under every passing day. A bittersweet story, dissolving in the sands of time. But, fuck it. I was, indeed, lucky. In that sofa. In her arms. Because I gave myself fully. No bullshit. No lies. No holding back. So, as painful as the outcome was, I couldn’t want it any other way. It was what it had to be. No regrets. Not now, not then. Time well spent.