When I Close My Eyes

An empty flat can be noisy. The floor creaks, the radiator clicks, and the neighbour's boy asks questions from behind the wall that adults try not to think about. Everything seems to be in its place, but the air has a taste of loss, like tea that has been left to brew for an hour. The days drag on, so it's easier not to come home at all than to listen to the echo of your own breathing.

And yet, every night it's the same: you close your eyes, and suddenly everything is as it was before. The one who is no longer there laughs, the light is soft, as if the sun had never set. Only then does the realisation come that this is not a miracle, but a memory stuck somewhere between the heart and the mind. A ghost with nowhere to go. And with it, silence in which you can hear longing living.