I’ve grown accustomed to the silent around the flat in such a short time. I’ve become used to my own pace. At first the empty space in the bed beside me lay like an open wound, but soon I was closing it up with outstretched arms, roaming legs, and joyous freedom. Only one alarm in the morning. Only half the washing up, and free choice of what to eat, and when. I’ve forgotten what having the share a remote feels like, what sitting in that other chair feels like, what sort of music they play on that radio station.

Has it only been three months? Seems like a lifetime.

Maybe he’s changed. Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe he’ll annoy me, take up too much space in the bed, play the wrong music. Maybe my laugh will grate on him, maybe my smile look faded. Video calls are all well and good but what if I’ve forgotten what he smells like, what if I remember and he smells different? Good god, what does the side of his head look like!

The plane lands the minutes tick away, as relentless as the footsteps coming closer behind the barrier. My anxiety flares, bright as the sun, cold as ice, and for a brief, horrible moment I want to flee into the certainty of defeat rather than live another moment in this maestrom of potential.

And then he’s there, and I melt into his arms, and everything is right with the world again.

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Matt Farr

Matt likes to read, watch and play things, and then spread his opinions to whomever will listen. Caution: Opinions may be contained in this Product.

Latest posts by Matt Farr (see all)

• Noisy Neighbours - 07/12/15
• Told With The Smell of Paper and Regret - 04/12/15
• The Cottage in the Hills - 09/11/15
• The Big Reveal - 24/10/15
• The Portal - 15/10/15