It comes in waves – the grief and pain. The loss of our imagined future now forever relegated to the confines of my fantasy world.
The multitude of exploits I was so sure we were destined to share, remain unrealised. The Sunday afternoon walks we won’t do, the unbought gifts, the selfies with my head resting on your shoulder that we won’t take, the unspent Friday nights and Saturday mornings, the weekend trips to the country and holidays abroad we’ll never share, the uneaten restaurant meals and home cooked dinners, the music we won’t listen to together, the unwritten Valentine’s cards, the hands we’ll no longer hold.
There’ll be no more daily text messages with updates of the minutiae of our respective days nor the phone calls with my heart quickening at the sound of your voice, no butterflies at the sight of your face. The cruel ceasing of those Tuesday evenings lying on your sofa with our bodies effortlessly entwined, reminiscing about kissing under the Moroccan stars – oh the stars!
‘We could be great together,’ you said back then. Do you remember that now?
It comes in waves.
Kate is based in London and has a postgraduate degree in Classical Art and Archaeology. She is currently working on her first novel.