Thirty Days
I admire the effort that Taylor, or rather, Mrs Harris, made in restoring my flat into a home, and under any other circumstances I would have been delighted with the transformation, but now, with everything seemingly falling apart, all I feel is revulsion.
I make the familiar journey to the train station in somewhat of a trance, stopping only for a latte in my favourite coffee shop on the way. I keep my earbuds plugged in and my music blaring throughout the journey in a vain attempt to try and distract my thoughts from returning again and again to Taylor. As I recite the words to Three Days Grace’s ‘I Hate Everything About You’, a numbness starts to settle in my core, a welcome relief to the
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