His stuff’s all been put into storage. He moves into his roommate situation in two days.
Your stuff’s in the middle of the floor at Harold’s. You’ve yet to begin blending your things together.
It’s just the mattress now. That’s all that’s left from your three years in this one bedroom together.
“Nowhere else to sit,” you say as you take your place on what’s always been your side of the bed.
“Harold excited to have you all to himself now?” he asks.
“Don’t,” you say.
He says no. He says it’s okay. He says he’s curious.
“Harold’s happy I’m moving in,” you say.
“You’re still moving in?” he says. “I thought you were already fully in there.”
“He’s in Singapore until Thursday,” you say. “And you and I still have two days on this lease.”
“So for the next two days…”
“Technically, yes.”
“We still live together.”
“Technically,” you say again. “Yes.”
He pulls a beer from the six pack sitting on the floor by his side of the bed. Hands it to you.
“So,” you say. “What should we talk about?”
“How this was?” he suggests. “How we did? Three years living together. Five years dating. Lot of ground to cover.”
“Like a post-mortem?”
“If you’ve got the time.”
You take a sip of your beer. Two days later you finish talking and head off to the rest of your lives.
Happy Just The Mattress Now Day!
