I woke up at noon, alone in bed. For a moment, I thought it was all just a wet dream, a fleeting glimpse of happiness that evaporated with the dawn. But then, an itch on my forehead pulled me back into reality. It was a yellow sticky note pstered there, a small reminder of his captivating aura."Gotta be at the Barracks. Took your spare key. Will be back asap," it said in messy writing that showed he was in a hurry.My heart sank as I traced the letters with my fingertips, pondering about the way he would always rush off, leaving me in this emptiness. The bed felt colder without him, even though he had only spent a single night beside me. The familiar scent of his cologne faded into the fabric, repced by the sterile smell of loneliness."I fucking hate this guy..." I thought bitterly. I know this is just part of his job. Nevertheless... I can't help feeling the pain of being left behind. I admire June for enduring this for nearly a decade, standing by him as high school sweethearts. I crumpled the note in my hand as I felt the weight of his absence crushing my chest. I tossed it aside and flopped on my empty bed, curling into the bnkets, seeking soce in the faint smell of him that was left there. My heart ached in the silence, each breath a reminder to myself; "You knew how he is... Yet you never learn... Dumbfuck!" I wanted to be mad at him, to curse his name for leaving me with this agonizing void. But deep down, I knew I would wait for him, that idiot, messy handwriting and all... Just as I always had.

  I felt the weight of my free day pressing down on me. It was already noon, and I had to pull myself together. I stumbled into the kitchen, my limbs heavy with the effort of moving. I made myself breakfast, or was it lunch? But the food felt like a chore, each bite cking fvor, just like everything else at that moment. I forced myself to clean up my room afterwards, to put things away, to create some order in this turmoil. But the task stretched on, an endless cycle of picking up and putting down, while my mind drifted elsewhere, lost in a fog of yesterday's memories. When the sharp edges of my feelings finally started softening, I thought maybe I could breathe again. Just then, a beep from my phone, a sound that sliced through my short-lived serenity. I stared at it, letting the seconds tick by, counting to ten before I finally had the courage to look. All the anger I had managed to tuck away surged back like a wave crashing onto the shore as I read the text, "Have to stay te. Cya tomorrow. I'll pick you up after your shift."The numbness I had fought so hard to build around me shattered. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, the sting of betrayal so painfully familiar. This guy... How dare he?"Don't fucking bother!" I shot back, each letter a bullet, each word a decration of my outrage. I tossed the phone aside, my heart racing, my breath shallow. Can't he see how much this is hurting me? I stared at the phone on the ground, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come."I'm done with him! I'm done with the way he’d pull me in, then push me away, like I was a toy he grew bored of. No more tears wasted on someone who clearly doesn't care," I thought to myself as I sobbed, trying so hard to hold it in. But to no avail, I cried myself to sleep that night, without his arms around me this time...

  "Sighhhh... Did you at least make his face match yours?" Mr. Tucker said, sounding concerned."Bet!" I replied pyfully."Don't..." Mr. Tucker desperately tried to keep the conversation serious. "This is physical violence, or domestic abuse even... You've got a case, boy.""It's not that serious, old man. It's just some bruise... Calm your grey hair.""Sylvester! Listen—" A colleague, Ryan, tried to voice his opinion but got cut off by a jingle of the bell.A big group of customers stormed in. Aside from them, there were some of the regurs and a couple of new faces. The bar had a light buzz that night, just the right amount of chatter and ughter filling the air. I stood behind the counter listening to the wild stories coming from them. Some were funny, others strange, and few even a bit touching. Each tale pulled me away from the twists and turns of emotions I had been dealing with for the st two days. I welcomed the distraction, knowing that these simple moments were just what I needed to clear my mind. As the night wore on and the st few patrons left the bar, I noticed this guy lingering at the counter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded 20-euro bill, pcing it on the counter with a grin and a nod of appreciation. I smiled back, grateful for the tip. I unfolded the bill, and a small piece of paper slipped out that fluttered to the floor. Curious, I picked it up and saw it was scribbled with a phone number. I rolled my eyes, having no interest in a te-night distraction at all. Especially not from a stranger. I returned my focus to cleaning up. There was a comforting rhythm to our work, a shared understanding between me and Ryan. The clinking of gsses and the soft hum of the dishwasher filled the air as I wiped down the counter and stacked the chairs. After we had locked the doors behind us and stepped into the cool evening air, we lit up cigarettes, recounting the wild tales, the funny mishaps, and even the touching moments that had made the night special. As our ughter faded, we exchanged goodbyes, and I started my walk home. I pulled out my phone, feeling a sense of dread as I saw the screen light up with notifications. 20 missed calls and 153 messages from Gunner. I shook my head, irritation stirring up inside of me. He... Was something else...

  Wednesday15:01 - Wooooow... Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning16:30 - Are you having an upset-a-roni? :pI can't help but chuckle at his messages...17:00 - Wait are you actually mad at me?17:02 - Awwww come on bebe don't be like that17:06 - Syl...17:06 - Syl17:06 - Syl17:07 - SylNo wonder he hit 153 messages. This guy...23:40 - Sleepy time... Miss u... See u soon Yesterday08:00 - Morninnn08:03 - Morninnnnn08:10 - Moooooorrrrrninngnngg!Seriously, how is June okay with this? Doesn't she check his phone? Or perhaps he has more than one... 16:35 - I'm done with work soon. Going out for a drink with my buddies. Then I'm all yours.22:55 - Hronuy add fyuck!This one was definitely a drunk Gunner. As if he wasn't infuriating enough already. Which reminded me... That this was like a tradition. The marines let loose and drank until they could hardly stand on Thursday night, knowing they would have time to sober up on Friday before safely driving back home for the weekend. Just as I was about to scroll further through Gunner's barrage of messages, a voice interrupted, "Hey..."My attention was pulled away from the screen. I looked up to see the same man who had tipped me earlier. He stood there, confident, with a casual smile that didn't quite reach his eyes."Hi, can I help you?" I asked, trying to sound less annoyed than I felt."Horny?""No, I'm tired...""Where are you heading?""Home," I replied, my tone short and firm."Awh... So soon? Wanna hang out? I can host.""Please leave me alone," I shot back, my patience wearing thin."Come on. We could just chill. It'll be fun," he insisted, closing the space between us. I could see his build was simir to mine, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of confidence. If things turned ugly, I was sure I could fight him off. But he hadn't shown any sign that he was a threat to me yet. After all, this city never truly slept; there were always eyes and ears lurking out from the windows of the surrounding buildings."I said no," I spat out, my voice steady and stern."Okay, fine. But call me, okay? You know what? Give me your number." He thrust his phone toward me, a glint of eagerness in his eyes.I was considering it as I intended to take the device and type in a random string of numbers so he would leave me alone. But just as I reached for it, Gunner appeared behind us like a shadow, his movements swift and practiced. In a fsh, he had the stranger in a headlock, his grip tight and unyielding. The man squirmed, his confident facade cracking. He was tapping on Gunner's arms as he struggled for his life, gasping for air."Gunner, stop..." I said softly, still in shock from the sudden turn of events. My voice seemed to vanish into the air. I saw the stranger's face grow pale, and I cried out in desperation, straining my throat, hoping to penetrate Gunner's drunken haze. "Gunner, let him go!"