Shift

I knew you'd gone. I noticed the garden birds sing outside and the broken wall clock hands shifting once more. 

 

I checked my phone and noticed that it was messageless. The battery light warning flashed and this was the only thing that had any significance. Facebook gave me four notifications but they were all birthdays of people I'd never heard of. Behind me on the table I noticed your unopened bank statement letters. But nothing says less about someone's life than those.

 

The night before I recall your late return from work; your stumbling in the dark around the bedroom; your heavy sighs and needless tutting. I played dead until you left the room. Below, I heard the kettle and a teaspoon rattling the inside of a mug before the silence arrived. I was as alert as a wolf on a hunt - your lingering fresh perfume was like toxin to my brain and it forced me under And those high heels were clippety clopping to all those familiar places.

 

Morning comes. I tiptoe around your sofa still playing wolf games. I want to check your handbag and phone, pockets and underwear. Instead I pour almond milk on gluten free cornflakes and stare at you. Your breaths lull me into a trance before I depart for work.

 

I saw your face on every billboard during my commute; and in the eyes of every girl I caught sight of myself. Double shot lattes rescued meetings, and I surfed on a caffeine wave until lunch when I then searched for you for half an hour, before admitting my iPhone was charging at home. For the rest of my break I pinged you mental messages and you pinged back. You soothed me with your softness and forgiveness; I did the same. My manager brought me back by tapping his wristwatch. But I already knew it was time.

 

Home. Your car gone. My phone pretending to charge without the plug switch down. I sensed you'd not been gone long - the toaster was warm and your Chanel still hung in the lounge. 

 

I slumped onto your sofa, hugged a cushion, revealed your lipstick, sniffed its very core. I imagined your first kiss; I imagined your cave tongue fishing for mine in the dark; I imagined you someone similar.

 

A text. Adrenaline had arrived. It was waiting... But all I could do was listen out for something more, for the birds I couldn't hear, for the clock that no longer ticked. And I knew that your nightshift would soon be over and your footsteps would soon be heard.