I wake up at 8 AM. Went to bed at 2. Fuck. Can’t sleep. I roll around between the sheets until 9. Just to feel I rested. I get up, naked. The day begins. I put on the bathrobe Anna used to wear when she stayed over. It still smells like her. I sniff it, taking deep breaths. My body reacts to her scent. My mind, to her absence. “So, this is it.” I make some coffee and a cheese sandwich. Sit alone on my table. Put on some music. Switch it to a Chilean podcast. I ignore the voices. I think about her. I experienced a lot of anxiety while we were together. “Am I settling?” I wondered. There was something missing. The Connection. Fucking Connection. My ex set the bar very high with that one. She screwed me over. And yet, why do I miss Anna so much? We didn’t have “the magic,” but there was something there. Something else. I opened myself to her, she opened herself to me. Not completely, though. We also held back. But it didn’t matter that much. In the quiet instants, in the silent stares. When our eyes locked. When our skins touched. When we orgasmed. When we kissed. When we cooked and ate and laughed together. Yes, I miss her. What now? I’ll finish my coffee, shave, maybe piss. Will hit the gym. Will have lunch. Will refuse to install and use Tinder or Happn again for a while. And I’ll drink. Lots. Will be pathetic. Will work. Will watch too much tv. Will remember the night when we ended it; a warm spring evening in the park, being eaten alive by mosquitos. Holding hands, sitting on a bench. Feeling as if the world behind the bushes didn’t exist. “You are a very good man,” she said; “You are incredible… No, wait a minute. I don’t like how that sounds. Nothing with ‘in.’ You are… outstanding.” I laughed at her weirdness. I liked her weirdness. And the smell of tobacco and weed in her breath. I hope she’s okay now. Me? I’ll survive. Have had worse. Although I feel I’m getting old for it. Ah, well…