“Shut up, shut up,” is what my lips are saying straight from my subconscious and this time I am able to get up, get out of this place I used to call home until he destroyed my memory of it. No longer can I draw comfort from the beginning-to-sag sofa and the candles. In a jangle of keys and determination to withhold salty tears until a little later at least, I manage to sweep half composed from the house and out the rusty gate, cutting my zigzag way down nearby pavements until I reach your red door.
I knock on the door three times, as I always do and if I shake slightly in doing so then I do not mean to. I seem to have lost all sense of myself in the present moment. And then you, my best friend, swing into my view as the red barrier between us is pulled out of the way. It is then that my composure fails me and the salty tears now fall plump down my almost incessantly pale cheeks. I see you glance over my shoulder either direction down the street as you pull me close and into the house, shutting the red door behind the both of us.
“He sodding well cheated on me.”
It hangs between us by way of explanation and your head flies up as you look at me and my undoubtedly red eyes and quivering lip and you shake your head. I know you won't threaten to hurt him, like others might, because you know it won't make a difference to a single thing.
You, Danny, the one who has always been my solid ground, just hold me close and for a while I forget the whole thing among pizza and red wine and Lord of the Rings, the way we always used to escape and this time is no different.