London

One morning it took me five whole minutes after blinking the morning sunlight out of my dream-fogged eyes to remember to remember you. There was something about that first glimpse of day. Being blinded against the wreckage of my life while still escaping from the plague of the nightmares. The heavy air of my silent bedroom filled with my hopes; the comfortable constriction of my sheets tangled around me. Until I remembered. Until I turned over or felt empty space behind me or noticed how far I had sunken into my side of the bed without you for balance or the sun went behind a cloud or the dog whined under the bed or I realized my skin wasn't flushed with your touch or I felt the crusted tears in the corner of my eyes or when my bones began to shake or I felt too hot, too itchy, too too too suffocated by the cocoon I'd woven myself into throughout the night. Some mornings I would rip the covers off and run to the shower; I'd scrub the life back into my skin or comb the dust of your memory out of my hair. Most mornings I'd wrap myself tighter in the lonely cotton trap, hoping if I pulled it taunt enough it would strangle me or at least send me back to sleep. Back to the nightmares where the world crumbled around me or I walked the broken streets of a lost city. Both were better than what being awake held for me.

One morning it took me five whole minutes to remember to remember you. Five whole minutes where you didn't exist at all. Or if you did you didn't matter. Five minutes stretched to ten which stretched to fifty which stretched to two whole hours. One morning I didn't think of you until lunch time. I rifled through the cabinet, looking for the peanut butter. You blindsided me, your memory hitting me in the gut. How many times had you reminded me the peanut butter was on the top shelf, behind the bread, far enough where I couldn't reach  so I would have to come to you for help. Your smug grin plastered on your face as you stretched past me, wrapping your hand around the one thing I needed, handing it to me as if handing me the world.

I pulled myself onto the counter top and reached behind the bread, the peanut butter gathering dust in the back corner of the cupboard. When I stepped back onto the hardwood of the kitchen floor, you were gone and you have been gone since.