Of him. Of the texts. Of my “I’m coming home I swear” lie from 2am. Democracy is dead in this flat and I’m the president.
Tag: screenshots
Screenshots. Voice notes. A blurry photo from the smoking area. I thought I was being discreet. I was being content. There’s a difference and I keep forgetting it.
Not proud. Also not sorry. His mum, his ex, a booking for two at Dishoom. I screenshotted the Dishoom one for later.