And now, now he was many thousands of miles away. Pulled away from her. Out of reach a full continent and a vast
expanse of water, with no chance of seeing her for many more months. Maybe it'd be 'third time lucky' for him.
He hoped to get back together with her. His days seemed endless.
Sure, he had a job which helped to pass the time, but it was always after his day at work that the full extent
of his situation bore down on him; spending the remaining hours of the day on his own, reading and listening to
music. Music was his saviour, he could get himself lost in it. And he was always searching for new sounds,
increasing the size of his CD and tape collection. His TV played a minor part, wasting away in the corner, seldom
watched apart from the odd movie.
He considered himself lonely. Without friends.
He could always phone her up but the previous two or three times he'd tried she hadn't been in, and anyways, it'd
always make things worse for him. After returning the handset to the cradle he'd silently cry and his heart would hurt
that little bit more. But maybe she'd be doing the same. He could never tell, and probably never find out either. She
wasn't without emotions; he'd found that out time after time. But generally she'd keep things to herself.