Good days, bad days (Part 1)

First off, the bad part.

Yesterday was what is officially known as a Bad Day. After eleven months on the market the flat I owned with the ex finally sold and, being the nice folks we are, we were obliged to get it all shiny and clean for the buyers moving in. Cleaning isn’t my favourite job in the world, as many people who’ve had the pleasure of living with me will attest to, but I can knuckle down and get on with it when it needs done. That part wasn’t a problem, despite the still-healing shoulder protesting very loudly at the amount of scrubbing required.

Love is a many-splendoured thing...

Love is a many-splendoured thing...

What killed me – and I mean properly, slow-knife-through-the-heart-in-Saving-Private-Ryan killed me – was seeing that place once we’d finished the epic task. It was fresh, it was new, it looked massive sans furnishings and… it looked exactly like it did the day we moved in there. That was one of the happiest days of my life, mostly because it made her so happy. She’d never owned a flat before and was just all grins and sunbeams despite the massive headaches we’d had leading up to the purchase, despite our lack of cash and despite general exhaustion from the whole process. I used to love nothing more than seeing her smile, the kind of goofy grin where all self-conciousness disappears and every single muscle in the face just goes for it. All that and more came flooding back to me and it was like a sledgehammer to the skull. I thought I was getting over things but I guess it’s going to take a bit longer.

Just to rub a little salt in the wound, fate decided to play a little trick on me as well. Because, y’know, I haven’t really had a shit enough time of it over the past nine months or so. Just as all those memories were stirring up memories of the breakdown of or relationship and reminding me of everything I’d lost I glanced over at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. She’d either popped out for a moment or was in another room, I forget which. Either way she’d left her wallet lying open on top of a pile of bags, towels and assorted crap. Lying open and proudly displaying a photo of her and her new boyfriend locked in a kiss in a photo booth, one of those shots that just screams youthful exuberance, the kind of passion and fun that our relationship was lacking so badly in the terminal stages.

Fuck.

Words can’t describe how it feels to see something like that so I’m not even going to try.

Yesterday was a Bad Day.

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