As Manon had said, he came home late. I was already in my bed, even though I knew I wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, wondering if he too was unable to sleep. When I woke up this morning, he was already gone. I hoped he left me a note in the kitchen, something that would make me think he had left a little less upset. But no matter how much I searched the counter, the fridge or even the coffee table in the living room, there was nothing.
So, I prepared for my working day with a feeling of defeat.
When I return home, the apartment, which until now has always seemed warm to me, seems empty and cold. I decide to watch a movie, but my heart isn’t there. After about thirty minutes, I turn off the television. What to do now? Even though I was awake much o
