You made coffee and didn’t offer me any.
I made coffee and you expected me to make you some, too.
You’re playing Doom without the headphones on.
It’s my turn to play Doom without the headphones on, now.
You beat me at Go.
You’re wearing my favourite hoodie.
You’re stomping around in your studio because you got inspired at 3 am and now I can’t sleep.
You called me a hypocrite.
You’ve gotten tired of always making the coffee.
You called me entitled.
You never play Go with me anymore.
I’ve forgotten what it was like to simply be with you while you played Doom and stomped around in the studio at 3 am.
I wish you cared enough to call me a hypocrite.
I came home to find you playing Go with the neighbour.
You’re no longer happy enough to play Doom or Go or any damned thing.
You wear the headphones so that you can cut me out entirely.
You spend most days in coffee shops instead of at home.
I miss the days when you were present enough to give me something to complain about.
I’ve forgotten what you even looked like in that old hoodie.
Someone else is walking around in the studio and his footsteps don’t sound like yours. He plays Doom with the headphones on and always wakes up at 9. The silence reminds me of the way you used to move around our home and how comforting your presence was to me years ago. I wear your old hoodie and pretend you’ve only gone to the coffee shop for an hour. He always makes me coffee and I wish he was you.