“Goodnight then, Ian.”
“Goodnight, Riley.”
I close the door and rest my back against it.
I hear him start the engine and drive away, and I try to slow down my breathing.
I go in the kitchen, take off my jacket and put down my bag on a chair. I open the fridge and grab a bottle of wine. I let the cold glass sit in my hands for a moment before putting it back, deciding to make myself a cup of tea instead.
I bring the mug through to my room and set it on my nightstand. I get undressed slowly, put on my trackies and sit with my legs crossed, hugging the mug between my hands.
The house is silent, the street outside quiet. I don’t hear any noise, but I can’t let myself be swallowed by the emptiness.
I don’t feel pain. I don’t feel the need to pretend, to smile if I don’t feel like smiling or to think about what to say or do.
I’m me, with all of my chaos, but with my mind firmly set in the present, standing tall, with a heart that’s ready to start beating again.
