I stayed in last night. Eva kept me company for a while, but later left me alone with my books. Her phone called, and something more important demanded her attention. I've never asked to be her highest priority. She's never been mine. Needless to say, this is true regardless of the fact that I love her. I really do.
When I called her in the middle of the night, in a haze of plum wine and attarax I could her just by the way she said "Salut chèrie" that she was having sex.
She mumbled something about calling me later, but she only spoke in vowels.
It's been forever since I forgot all about consonants. Not even Tramadol can do that anymore.