Soren
I don't sleep at all.
I'm here, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Felix finally give up and walk away at around three in the morning. His steps are heavy, exhausted, and part of me traitorous wants to call him back.
I don't have to.
At dawn I'm already dressed. Black jeans, oversized hoodie, hair pulled back. Armor.
I look in the mirror at myself and I almost don't recognize the girl looking back. Her eyes are sunken, shadowed by sleepless nights. Her skin is pale, she looks like a ghost.
Fitting.
That's what I am now. A ghost at the fringes of somebody else's love story.
My phone is showing forty-seven missed calls from Felix. Sixty-three texts. I delete them all without reading.
I can't, not yet.
Maybe not ever.
I hear a knock
