Waking up again this morning, alone and exhausted, tells me straight away that it happened again. The nightmares. I don’t remember them, but the signs are always there.

My bedsheets are all disheveled, the feeling of dried tears on my face and the feeling that I have survived a storm, barely.

I just pray that Felisha and Flynn didn’t hear anything, and I can keep this to myself. I already feel like a burden living in their apartment, so as soon as I woke this morning, I was up showered and left. I messaged her that I needed to get some plans done for my apartment renovation, which I must admit has taken a back seat in the last few weeks with everything happening around me. Now that I have my own guard watching and waiting for my every move, I don’t need to wait for Felisha or Flynn to escort me to my car.

Walking into my apartment feels strange, like it’s no longer home. I know it is in disarray, but still, it has a different feel to it now. Like it’s too over-the-top perfect. That the redecorating is trying to bring warmth into the home, but it’s not the kind of warmth it was lacking; I’ve learned that comes in the form of a man, a grumpy one at that. Or maybe it’s just that my head is so jumbled from the last forty-eight hours. Yet the contrast is that Forrest’s home, that is decorated in a minimal way, feels more like home than this place does. And I was only there for a few weeks, yet it grew on me. It had life in it—well, one life in particular that made me laugh more than I have in a long time and feel warmth to just be me. It was effortless and easy, I think that’s what I loved about being there.

As the contractors start to arrive, I sort out a few issues that they have been waiting on me to make decisions on. And by the time I make it to the office, waiting on my desk is another brown paper bag, with a purple ribbon this time.

I feel like my feet move quicker than they have been all morning. As much as I have been telling myself I don’t want to see or talk to Forrest, it’s been twenty-four hours since I have had any sign that he is thinking about me, and it almost killed me. People must think I’m crazy when I’m the one that walked away, yet I’m here almost diving across the table to open the bag and see if he has left me a note again.

Good morning, muffin.

Just because I know how much you enjoy avocados.

Eat every mouthful.

It will keep your skin smooth…

Forrest x