I came back home to an empty apartment. Immediately I switched on the air-conditioner. Paul was out with his mother. He left a note on the refrigerator door telling me to reheat the takeaways from Pregos.
He used to cook for both of us, I remembered with a sense of wistfulness.
I sunk down into the broken couch. We took turns returning home late. This week was his. I leant back and marvelled at our constancy and our perseverance.
I always reached the same conclusion - maybe the relationship wasn't a case of combined effort. The relationship existed because of inertia.
It was moments like these that made me depressed. Powerful but eventually fleeting, they evoked a temporary state of frustration and near despair in that brief period of two hours before the other came back. In a strange way, it was comforting evidence that we experienced some form of strong emotion.