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You're there.

Tapping away on that computer in the bedroom, online to whoever in one chatroom or another.

I don't remember when I stopped loving you. It could be last year, or the year after we met, or any time in between. I know I loved you once, but that seems like another world.

Oh it's not a bad life here with you, and we're not unhappy. We both have good jobs, similar taste in music and food, and we like a lot of the same TV. We haven't argued for...actually I can't remember when we last had an argument.

Why don't I leave? Why don't you? You must feel the same way, though we never talk about it. Why don't we just call it quits? Simple. I've got nowhere to go, no one else to go to, no reason to leave, and you're the same.

We're friends, not even especially close. Nothing like the all consuming passion when we fell head over heels for each other that summer, however many years ago it was. Too long ago.

But we're friends, and that's good, and we're happy.


You're gone.

One day you were there, and the next there was a note on the kitchen table. All the laundry neatly done, the fridge fully stocked, housework done.

And a note saying you still loved me but couldn't stand the way our relationship was going. That you were sorry, truly sorry, but felt like too much of a coward to tell me face to face, and you hoped someday I might forgive you.

The first proper conversation we'd had in months. You'd found someone who was nothing like you but they made you feel funny and daring again, like you did when you met me. You met them in real life and it was still good - that time you were away on business, you were with him.

I didn't even miss you. I miss you now, just a bit, as a friend.


You're back.

Same computer, probably the same chatrooms.

You were with him for nearly twelve months, until it went sour. We spoke on the phone, met up two or three times, went for a drink and you always told me how sorry you were, and I said it was okay - I understood.

Then one night you knocked on my door. It had all gone wrong and you knew I had no reason to let you in but you had no one else to turn to so...please? Just until you could get things together.

That was months ago. You've got no reason to leave, and I've got no reason to push you out. You have occasional flings on the net, we like the same food, the same music, and a lot of the same TV.

We're not close, but we're happy.

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And there, as they say, go all of us.

Even if you're in the most passionate of relationships, even if your heart quakes every time he's near, ennui eventually creeps in.

Beautifully observed, Kapitano. :icon8:

Props and doffed hat.

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