Ficlets

New York here I come 6

I never thought two major cities could be so different. New York lacks the comfort of old buildings with stories to tell and gentle wearing. The same as I figure to Americans, London lacks the luster of something new and exciting. I make my way to the flat I’ve been provided by the firm. And the first thing I’m told is that it is an apartment.

After committing random small facts to memory, this is an apartment with a bathroom rather than a flat with a loo I decide to go look around. I remind myself that I live here now.

Preston calls that night. With the time different it works out perfectly and I can hear his exhaustion in his voice as my clock chimes nine pm. “Another late one?” I ask and he agrees. It takes all I have not to cry and say how much I miss our mundane little life. And for a moment I’m delirious enough with my loneliness to think that maybe it could work this way, living off phone calls. It’s wrong to use him, and I know this. When he hangs up I cry and then go lay down; tomorrow comes.

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