The translucent curtains swaying in the wind were the 80’s, the sunlight the 90’s.
I pushed the wine stained bed sheets to the side and looked at the watch, the watch she’d given me. 19:00h. Fuck.
An icy cold breeze ran through all the cracks, windows and doors of our… of my house.
I pulled the bed sheets up to my chin and moaned low like I was looking for the sympathy of some invisible being. I trembled, cried and fell asleep again. When I woke up the room was dark. Alone and lost, like a child figuring out the world for the first time, I watched the snowflakes soaring slowly, entering fearfully into my world of alcohol and self pity. They reflected the moonlight and appeared to weep with me in compassion, although lately everything around me seemed about to cry. The low howl of the washing machine, the regular whimpering of the microwave… in short, I was living in an enormous palace of sad, dependent and week little ghosts. I was living with myself. I was living alone.
The physiological need of warming up, reminded by the painful numbing of my feet, was the only thing that managed to rip me away from my slobbered,” wined” and maybe even a little pissed bed. I closed the window, not without slipping first on the small puddle of melting snow that had been formed underneath it and following it by a stream of nonsensical vituperation. I headed to living room then. The lights were on and there were still to logs left untouched by the flames. The embers were sizzling in a dragged and fantastically dormant way. They too were mourning. I put the logs in the middle of the fireplace and with trembling hands managed to light a fire, matter of great pride and most certainly a boast demanding one too. Within twenty minutes the house was warm again. The watch, the watch she had given me pointed to 1:20. I can’t make it until morning. I thought of all the hours and the silence. I can’t make it to sunrise. I fell asleep once more.
I woke up at seven thirty with the couch’s leather stuck to my face and half my body dormant. I boiled water, made tea and ate some biscuits. The floorboards creaked. Here’s a thing about silence: it always makes the floorboards creak and the wind blow harder. There had been a lot of silence in the last few days, floorboards and blowing wind too, so I should know.
When I left home, for the first time after the most nightmarish, depressing and feverish weekend of all break up induced ones, I had my hair wet and enough perfume on, I thought, to mask all this shitty feels and avoid awkward conversations. I got in the car decided to… well just decided, that will have to do.