I don’t know how to text her. Everything I type seems too full-on or romantic or boring or wanky — Meet me outside Buckingham Palace? Such a tosser! — so I delete them all.
Soon, not seeing each other will be the new normal, so maybe we’re bracing ourselves.
I glance at the map of the world again, swearing to myself as I take in the big blue of the ocean stretching across the paper, a staggering reminder of how far away London will be from this life.
Reminders like this, of her, make me want to cancel the trip, but I know that won’t make me happy either.
I’ve learnt the lesson and it blows: no-one can get everything they want. At least not at the same time. That’s the fantasy. The fairy tale.
But c’mon, I don’t want everything — just two things. Travel and her. Surely that’s not too much to ask.
I turn on my phone. No messages. I turn it off.
Maybe it’s better this way.
I wonder if she thinks it’s better this way.
***
Milo: Hey, stranger. When can I see you before I go?
* * *
Layla: Hey, whenever you want. Sorry I’ve been MIA!
* * *
Milo: That’s OK. Same! Things are pretty hectic. How’s the day before I fly out?
Layla: Perfect. Come to mine if you want. Shirin will be at work
Milo: Yours it is