“This flatshare. I wish I never done it. Wish I’d never opened up my life like that and let someone else walk in and fill it up. I was doing fine – safe, managing. Now my flat’s not mine, it’s ours, and when she’s gone all I will see is the absence of tiffin and books about bricklayers and that bloody stupid paisley beanbag. It’ll be another room full of what’s missing. Just what I didn’t want.”
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