She didn’t even knock this time. Just turned the radio up and sent a group-chat screenshot that said “congratulations I guess”. Fair.
Tag: apartment
Hallway. Shoes still on. Someone’s Amazon parcel as a pillow. Romance is dead and I’m throwing the funeral.
It now includes “remove strange men before 9am” and “buy more loo roll after weekends”. I initialled it in lip gloss.
Thin walls. Thick voice. I’d apologise if I was sorry. I’m not. They play drum and bass at noon on Sundays, so I consider us even, actually.