But of course, Tess is finito. The great Mike and Tess experiment has reached its logical conclusion. Still, it’s a shitty feeling to wake up to. Maybe I should call her? Christ I feel awful. I think about getting up and going to work. Fuck it, everyone calls in sick once and a while, even I.T. buffs. Besides, I have the Mac here, I can always claim ‘I’m working from home.’ I pull myself out of bed, and shuffle into the kitchen. I like my flat, it’s light and modern, one of four in this building. I’ve only been here a few months but it feels more like home than anywhere else has. That’s because Tess stayed here too. That treacherous little voice, always there, niggling at me, self-righteous little prick. Eurgh, I need coffee, my mouth is like sandpaper, and this headache is shaping up to be a real bastard. I put the coffee through the cafetiere (another little gift from the elusive Tess) and rifle through my cabinets for some painkillers. Empty. Bollocks.
