Lena
I’m staring at this mug. It’s chipped. I bought it in a shop in Bristol, or was it Cardiff? Doesn’t matter. The glaze is peeling off in little flakes, like dead skin. I keep touching the rim with my thumb. It’s cold.
You left your coat on the chair. The one with the tear in the sleeve. I saw you do that. You put it back on the same side, the bad side. It’s annoying. I want to shake you. I want to say you’re being dramatic, but I’m not. I’m just tired.
I haven’t slept. Or I have, but I don’t remember. The noise from the neighbors is back. That thumping bass. It’s 3 a.m. or 3 p.m., who knows. I just want to be left alone. I want to disappear into the wall.