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Did you get the keys? Is it everything you wanted?
I snap a photo of the empty room and send it with the caption:
Home sweet home! Come round whenever!
Three dots appear immediately.
On our way! Carter’s grabbing takeaway. Be there in 20.
I slide down to sit on the floor, my back against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest.
Just a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have recognised this version of myself – the one with friends who show up, a job that means more than just a pay-check, and now, a place that’s entirely and finally my own.
I pull the small notebook from my bag where I scribble my constantly evolving list of dreams and plans, flipping through it until I find the latest entry, made about six months ago.
Things I Want:
Get my own flat
Learn to cook something more than pasta
Lead a campaign
Ask Marcus out
I smile as I put a tick next to the first item and make a mental note to buy a recipe book to work towards item 2.
I stare at the last item, tapping my pen against the page.
The thought of Marcus makes my heart flutter, even after all this time. He still smiles when he passes by me in the hallway, but I haven’t seen nearly as much of him lately as I’d like. The company’s landed a few major clients recently, so I assume he’s been buried in work.
But I still see him every Friday at the coffee shop, sometimes twice in a week if I’m lucky. Every now and then, he gets there before me andsurprises me with a coffee, and every damn time, my heart feels like it’s about to burst.
Every time, I want to say something more than ‘Thanks.’ Every time, I dream about him saying ‘Fuck it’ and kissing me when we’re alone in the lift. But every time, it’s the same polite smile, the same ‘Have a good day,’ the same ‘See you later.’
But with every smile, every nod, every friendly greeting, I fall deeper and deeper.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
“It’s open,” I call, standing up.
Angela bursts through the door, her long braids flying over her shoulder, holding a bottle of champagne in each hand.