Blustery

I sit on the sagging sofa of Emily and Tom's small terraced house, wrapped in a duvet and scrawling through facebook on my phone. The barren student-type house creeks and heaves as the sudden blustery weather throws itself along the row of red-brick homes. I take a sip of the black filter coffee I made myself as soon as I awoke to find it wasn't yet 8AM; my index finger navigates the touch screen and brings me to the 'notifications' section. A wall post from 'Is James'. I follow the link and read the succinct public message to myself, "Text me back, dyke". I leave the webpage and wonder when I'll get round to speaking to her again, if ever. My mind is awash with nothing but confusion at my own thoughts and feelings - all I wanted this summer was her, then when I finally receive the opportunity to actually be something with her, I run away. Emily and Tom must still be asleep; the whole house is silent bar the patter of rain on the single-glazed windows. I rest my head on the arm of the sofa and feel myself gently relax into sleep.