Chapter 2


I'm outside my mums' door.

The cheap mdf covers the holes in the door lightly enough for me to pry off and climb through. I've grown since the last time I did that, as my back scraped against the sharp edges of the remaining door and crunched loudly. The room was so much darker than I remembered. I couldn't make out the objects in front of me. Ahead was a small sliver of light, shining dimly through the tattered curtains. If I could just make it there, I could see what I was doing.

My feet shuffled slowly, knowing there could be anything on the floor; my mum never had the common courtesy to tidy after her use. It made navigating rather dangerous. If only I could reach the window, I could be more careful.

The light stretched further away from me, as the room turned into a stretched corridor. It was moving so far away, so fast. I had to reach that window.

My shuffle became a brisk walk.

Then a jog.

Then a run.

Before I knew it, I was sprinting with my arm outstretched, fingertips only inches from the resting curtains. My breath was pitching and catching on the rearing stitch hitting my side. My feet crumbled over the numerous littered items until I hit something soft and came tumbling down face first. My hand grasped the curtain, yanking it from the rails and crashing to the floor ahead of me.

Suddenly, the room filled with the dim yellow light, glaring across the reinstated square room. A room no longer my mums, with no mattress crowded by litter and sharps. Now a room quite empty.

Apart from something soft.

Something warm.

Something not moving.

I awoke with a startling gasp.

The stitch was still digging deep into my ribs, and my breath was laboured. The room span as I pulled myself up and stood before getting steady, taking the empty glass from the side into the bathroom.

Let's not think about what just happened.

Sundays is always my favourite day of the week. Not just because the café doesn't open either, but I spend every day with people all day long. I just want me time. Anti-people time. And Sunday is my absolute ultimate unsocial day. I get to do the things I want, I get to chill, read, eat, drink. Just about anything I want. Gulping the water, I pulled my duvet straight off my bed and into the living room and slumped on the sagged sofa. I really need a new one.

Of course, by the end of the day, I've had enough of my own company. I feel as if I should be doing something. Making a coffee. Taking an order. Food shopping. Just anything. Its normally by this time of the day that I feel the need to go out and do something just, so I don't go insane with myself.

Today just feels different. I already feel like I've gotten sick of my own company and could do anything just to be doing something worthwhile. Talking to anyone I can see. The first person I see. I remember the man from last night automatically. Okay, maybe not the first person I see.

I've only been awake for 10 minutes.

Getting dressed, I decided today would be different. Maybe Sunday wouldn't be so antisocial.

As I exited the flat, I walked around onto the next street before walking ahead.


Ringing the doorbell for what felt like the hundredth time, I get ready to give up and walk away when my phone pings out loud.

Is it you rattling the door read Dan's text.

Let me in I replied. Okay, I was a little bit early, even for me.

Almost 10 minutes later, Dan pulled open the door, wrapped in his duvet with his eyes nearly shut, sleep still cornering his eye.

"Morning!" I started, only to be replied to with a humph and beckoned in. We went into the living room and both slump on the sofa, sighing simultaneously.

"What on earth," Dan asked with a slight crackle in his voice "compels you to be awake at eight in the morning. Like, I thought you slept all day Sunday." I turned to face him and laughed heartily.

"Its called a body clock dear usually happens when you have an actual job working shift." I retort playfully. I wait to see the reaction on his face, one of fake offence and smugness.

"Hmm, joys of sleeping in and working whenever you like…" he closed his eyes and rested his head back onto the sofa, smug definitely written across his face. After a few seconds, his head lolled over and he opened his eyes, looking directly at me.

"So… what's up?" I stare blankly at him, waiting for him to explain. "Like… why are you here? You never come out on a Sunday, not even for games. What brings you here?"

"Well, I normally like my Sundays like I have my coffees – alone and in peace. But I didn't want to do that today for whatever reason. So I did what I thought was best when I didn't want o to stay in, and come round to annoy you." I jumble my answer into one long breath.

Dan nodded, clearly trying to unfog a sleepy head.

"What do you want to do? Play some games? Sleep some more?" he snuggled right into his duvet some more. "My duvet is telling me what to do, but I'm sure I can ignore it a little…" He looked at me, obviously hoping for an answer that would help him remain in his cocoon of bedding for the rest of the day.

"Well," I started sarcastically, "I hear Sunday is the best day to do everything outdoors. So I say, grab Sunday by the balls, and let's go for a good old shopping spree."

Dan glared questioningly. "I'm joking."I laughed whilst reaching and missing a playful punch in the arm. "Honestly, do you really think I want to be out there at this time of the year? You're having a laugh." I retorted, pulling away from my thick jumper. "Nah, your central heating warms me up just nice…" I smile.

"I'll turn it off if you're not careful," he challenged jokingly.

"And I'll open the windows for good measure."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

We both slumped back properly, Dan offering me a part of his duvet as we settled into a Sunday classic movie.

I couldn't help but glance out the window, searching for that man.