I come home and the apartment is empty. On some days I like that, on days like today, it’s just awful. Except of my little hairy creature, the apartment is dead. No one is waiting for me, no one is telling me about his day. There is not a single sound in the rooms and the single tear that runs down my cheek does not make a single audible noise as it splashes on the floor. It’s true, you have to be alone too. You would think that I did not have learned that. But that’s not the case! I learned being alone and I can do it for a certain amount of time. But not always!
And that’s why there are these days, my home is just an empty box without love. The walls decorated with pictures are suddenly bare, colorless and cold. I turn on the heater to get rid of the chilly feeling. It is not enough. I try a hot bath, but nothing helps against the cold.
The loneliness makes me think about things that I did not care about in the past. I once had a home, today I only have a flat. I once was so busy I could not think of any bad. Now the emptiness fills up all of my head and makes room for bad thoughts.
The next tear lands in another place on the floor and the really warm wood of the parquet soaks it up and never leaves it again. Every day I walk over it and try to cover it with my footprints. But no matter how far I go, they are always there.
I should do so much today, but the loneliness eats me up and does not let me think clearly.
It is getting warmer in the apartment, but I’m still cold. Maybe it needs fresh air, and so I open the windows. Once aerate, to dry the tears before falling to the ground. And then keep going as if nothing had happened.