The kitchen light is too white. Makes the apartment feel temporary.
The fridge hums every few minutes. Between those sounds, the place goes completely still.
Like nobody actually lives here.
I rinsed the plate when I finished but left it in the sink. The faucet's dripping. I've been meaning to fix it.Drip.A few seconds.Drip again.I stopped noticing that sound years ago. Now I think I just like having something else in the apartment that stays awake with me.
By the time I loosened my tie, it was past 1:30am. The gym downstairs never really closes. Neither does my inbox.
I hung the suit jacket over the chair. Carefully. Almost automatically. Plugged my Apple Watch in. It lit up for a second.
Tuesday.
Already knew that.
The kitchen light is too white. Makes the apartment feel temporary.
The fridge hums every few minutes. Between those sounds, the place goes completely still.
Like nobody actually lives here.
The TV was on mostly for noise. I scrolled through my phone for a while. Work messages. News headlines. A photo from someone’s birthday dinner I didn’t go to.
My thumb stopped over her name in WhatsApp.
The profile photo was still the one from that trip.
I stared at it for a second.
Then locked the phone instead.
By the time I lay down, the soreness in my shoulders had finally surfaced. The kind you don’t notice during the day because staying functional takes everything you’ve got.
I stared at the ceiling for a while.
Not really thinking.
Not really resting either.
Eventually I got up and took a shower.
I stayed under the hot water longer than I should have. Like my body had forgotten how to stop bracing itself.
Steam covered the mirror. At some point I looked down at my hands.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d touched my own body without needing something from it.
Not sexually.
Just… carefully.
Almost like checking whether something was still there.
The water went lukewarm. I stayed under until it did.
When I walked back into the bedroom, my hair was still damp. The floor was cold. The curtains shifted slightly from the vent.
The playlist she’d sent me was still playing near the bed.
Said I needed something slower at night.
I never told her she was right.
Haven’t really listened to it in months. It just makes the room feel less empty.
I tried to remember the last time I sat across from someone without checking the time. Not work drinks. Not networking. Just dinner. Conversation. Another person.
I couldn’t.
I scrolled halfway through my contacts and stopped.
Some people drifted away. Some felt too difficult to explain myself to. And some people—
I just didn’t want them seeing me like this.
I put the phone face down beside the bed.
The apartment went quiet again. Not peaceful quiet. The kind that stays too long.
I pulled the blanket slightly closer without thinking about it.
A small instinct.
Like some part of me still believes comfort might exist somewhere.
Outside, a car passed.
I closed my eyes.
Waited for sleep to arrive.
