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art by Jonathan Westbrook
You've Ruined This For Me
by Ewan C. Forbes
The skies were burning outside my window but I paid them no heed. During a break up, it is amazing how long it takes for information from the outside world to seep through. My phone had been ringing for days but I was in no mood to talk. When I finally noticed the storm outside it seemed fitting. As far as I was concerned it was pathetic fallacy.
I moped around the flat. Moping was all I had the energy for. I tried to do it without looking at things. Everything reminded me of her: the photos, the dirty dishes, the books, the posters. Everything. I noticed that the t-shirt I was wearing was one that she had bought me. I use her shampoo, so even my hair reminded me of her. I cut it off.
I tried to go back to bed. Before her, I used to sleep on the left. Later, facing the wall was the norm because the left became her side and I didn't want to choke on her hair as I slept. I tried sleeping on the left again but I got no satisfaction, and so I turned over, defeated. The screams from the street outside made sleep difficult to achieve, but I'm a pro and soon I was napping.
When I woke up I was thirsty, so I went downstairs to make some tea. As I added the milk I realized I'd made tea her way, with the milk added before the teabag was removed. Betrayed by my autopilot. As I sipped the tea I looked around the room. I counted the items that, before her, I would have bought in different brands: washing-up liquid, the detergent, the soy sauce, the bread, the olive oil... Then I counted the electrical items that belonged to her: the toaster, the microwave, the grill, the electric tin-opener...
"Pretty soon it's just gonna be me and you," I said to the kettle.
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I turned the television on. I wasn't ready to take in information but I was sick of silence. I pressed buttons on the remote randomly, flicking through with no care for what channels came up or what was on them. Everything looked the same. There seemed to be a lot of news on these days. My persistent channel-surfing limited my awareness to the bare details: earthquakes here, typhoons there, hurricanes to the North, forest fires to the South. Nobody looked happy. The phone started to ring again. I ignored it. Eventually, after what might have been hours, I fell asleep again.
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When I woke up the television was silent. "Due to technical difficulties we are unable to continue the broadcast" was a message that seemed to crop up on about half the channels I flicked through. The rest seemed to have a lot of people singing hymns. I hate Sunday television.
I made some more tea. The phone started ringing again and, in a moment of weakness, I picked up. I could barely make out what was going on. The line was bad.
"Hello?"
Static followed by the faint sound of somebody's voice. I couldn't make it out.
"The line's bad, call back later."
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It is horrible to note just how obsessed with another person it is possible to become. Some people get obsessed early on, others afterwards. I chose afterwards, although I was now beginning to wish I hadn't. I tried to think about what I'd do now, who I'd contact. Everyone knew both of us. If it turned out that our friends chose sides, I knew that my lot wouldn't be large enough to put together a football team, even a five-a-side. Despite not becoming obsessed, I'd let my friendships fall by the wayside. Friendships are like flowers: if they are not maintained they wither and die. I was down to my cactus-friends. I thought about calling one of them later, letting them know what happened. Maybe I'd do it, I'd have to see.