i want to see you
i sit in the kitchen at 2am alone, sipping a cold cup of mocha latte. flipping my phone around in my hands, fidgeting with the keyring at the back of its cover, i stare off into the near distance, eyes glazed over. the grimy windows refract what little moonlight that filters in, casting swimming shadows of leaves that shift along to the rhythm of the night. the leaking tap by the kitchen sink drips and drops to the ticking of the clock. a little too synchronised, unsettlingly so. the lights are off, and the dishes remain unwashed, collecting water and breeding mosquitos under the swampy darkness. it is a silent night, made quiet by the countless of weeks of quarantine that is guaranteed to cull any desire for activity in my neighbours, who were already habitually deep, and early, sleepers.
forcing my lazy ass to get up, i move over to the sink to inspect the damage. its been weeks since you came over, and as expected, the sink was filled to the brim with dirty tableware. i sigh. reaching over to grab a mug, my hands brush over something hairy and i yelp. something falls over and crashes on the tiles, splintering glass all over. a loud snarl, as i hurry to the light switch. there stood ruby on the chair, fixing me with her usual semi-pissed resting-bitch-face all cats perpetually have on. groaning, i go over to check the mug that now lies resting in pieces. a coloured shard. i pick it up and squint.
your face on it, smiling broadly. hair a little too messy for your standards. black on white on black.
of course it had to be your mug. the one we got with our traumatised faces printed on, after one too many rollercoaster rides at USS. the one that you always used, whether it be on our bedside table or as we binge-watched netflix. the one that smelled of ground coffee, and faintly, very faintly, still of you.
i couldn't move, even if i wanted to.
and in the echoing silence of the night, punctuated only by overlapping sounds of time and water, i clutched my head in my hands and wept.