It went like this.
Me: Witty question, though I say so myself.
Him: One-word response.
Me: Witty question.
Him: Two-word response.
Must be love.
Finally, a sign of life.
… though not a very encouraging one.
Me (fed-up): Response.
The following evening, Beatrice and I go to a housewarming. We last a couple of hours.
‘So, anyone?’ I say, en route to the station.
Besides a sweet girl who works in films and who I would later go to considerable lengths to track down the name of – the kind of lengths people in films go to to track down the love of their life, but since I didn’t meet the love of my life…
I get in, drop my stuff on the table in the sitting room, and go through to the kitchen to make a drink.
Mug in hand, I flop down on the sofa. My phone is blinking. I swipe the screen and there it is, the distinctive orange logo. And the words,
That’s not exactly what it says.
I stare lovingly at the screen, open and close the window a few times, revisit his Facebook profile. Birds are singing by the time I do finally hit the hay.