It’s raining today, I’m okay with that, in fact I actually quite like rain, there’s something comforting about the dreariness of a grey and over cast day. I know it’s raining as I can see the water droplets racing down the skylight window above me, and the sound reflecting into the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls are bare, I find most men’s are, and the bedding I notice is grey too, how fitting. He stirs beside me, I notice a washing basket to the left under the large television which intimidatingly covers the majority of the wall directly in front of me, we never did fit that tv in your room. He stirs again and I look painfully down at my jeans to the left of me, I know his name, I wish I didn’t, would make this a whole lot easier to do.   Gently I slide my legs over the side and lean for them to pull them on, I feel his hand round my waist, I continue to move, and finally I am dressed. Stirring through my handbag I assure myself I’ve all my belongs, then I head to the mirrored wardrobe, cracked mascara, smeared lipstick, a running nose and some remanence of foundation – well the lipstick I can fix, the rest shall have to wait, sadly no sunglasses. He opens his eyes and looks at me, I gaze vaguely into them before focusing on his shoulder, he’s got the exact skin colouring you have, and the same after shave, how strange. He’s unattractive though, his hair is brown smoke and his loneliness is physically paining me, great flat though.

“I’m off” I mutter, or something along those lines, he looks pissed off, maybe because I’m leaving, maybe because I’ve snatched myself away waking him up and releasing him back into the nightmare that is life, maybe he thought he was getting round two or would it be three. Either way it was time for a swift exit, down the stairs into the living room, and on the floor lies another past lover. He was a simple guy, but you know, he was really nice to me, he once paid me for sex also, but that’s another story. Sauntering across from the stairs to the kitchen I fill a glass off the draining board from the tap. Oh he’s awake, “why are you like this? You never change” he murmurs before turning round on the sofa, I’m guessing this is a dig as to why I didn’t sleep with him in my coked up confusion last night. I wish I knew myself perhaps my empathy got the better of me and I know from Instagram how much he loves his new girlfriend, perhaps I wanted to redeem myself, perhaps because it was on a sofa rather than in a bed. I don’t know, but now I’ve managed to successfully drink half a glass of water whilst in thought and I’m heading out the door. As the door shuts I sigh in relief, and swifly sweep away the last twenty four hours to erode and decay in a corner of my mind somewhere.


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