I wake up to an empty bed. For almost a few seconds I had forgotten he’s is dead.

I go down stairs to the kitchen, make tea and take it back to bed. I haven’t left the house in nearly seven weeks. Not since the funeral. My mobile starts to ring so I turn it off. I stare at the cup on the windowsill and watch it grow cold. I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes again it is dark. I need to pee. But when I walk into the bathroom I start to vomit uncontrollably I retch until there is nothing left . It was only two months ago that I called to say I would be late. Graham had been working from home but said he would ‘throw together some pasta’. when I got back.

When I got home, I threw my keys into the flat bowl by the door. I called out but there was no answer, it is a fairly big house so I didn’t really think much of it at the time.I went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I put the bottle down on the counter and notice the note.

“Hello Mr. We ran out of tomatoes. I’ve just popped out to grab some from that Deli you like (where their guy behind the counter always flirts with you!) Be back probably before you, if not can you put the pasta on?

Love you, Graham.”

I laugh to myself and walk upstairs. I take off my suit, change my clothes and walk into the bathroom to shower. As I open the Bathroom door I see Graham lying on the floor.

The Doctors later tell me that he had a Subarachnoid hemorrhage and probably didn’t have the chance to suffer. They are being kind, so I say nothing.

I take a sip of the cold and bitter tea. It just makes me feel even more sick. Graham had been having headaches for a while before he died. I round up all the painkillers that I can find. I alternate handfuls of them with large gulps of whiskey. At some point I must have fallen asleep again.

Graham pulls me towards him and bites my earlobe, I roll over so I can face him. “Hello. I thought… I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

He smiles. That stupid , silly grin of his. With the slightly crooked tooth and the small scar on his bottom lip where his brother accidentally hit him in the mouth with a stick. “No Mr. I’m here. I hated being away from you. Do you want to sleep a little more? It’s still early.”

I put my arms around him, the warmth, the smell of his skin, it is like home. “No, I just want to be here.”

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