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A Dream of a House

Your chest is rising up and down to the buzzing of a trapped fly, repeatedly crashing into the window above us. I lay still a while, my tangled hair sliding across your arm with each breath, back and forth like waves. The vacuum of our skin make it so sweaty and it’s like we’ve consumed all the oxygen left in the air. Even the fly has noticed and is trying to escape before we all suffocate. I try to endure it, last a little longer and make the summer seconds feel less short. For some reason they still seem to rush away. Perhaps they are just as eager as the rest of us when the snow has vanished. After all we all run through the good parts too quickly.

When I slide off you your skin prickles and it wakes you up. It feels like ages ago when I woke up in your bed the first time, all shy and embarrassed and happy. It was ages ago I guess. Like that day three and a half years ago we have no plans.

– I don’t want to see a single person today, I say.

 Me neither, you respond. You sigh and I can tell that this city is wearing on you faster than ever.

– Shit Linn, why don’t we actually just save up all of our money and buy a tiny cabin? A super small one where we just fit everything we need and nothing more.

This year has been tough on so many levels and I want it to stop, to go away so maybe we should just leave. Live somewhere I haven’t even been because there is no reason to go there. I continue:

– It has to be somewhere by the water then. In a rural area with nothing around it. With big windows so you can watch the storm and read and listen to music and not be stressed by anything. Just us. And I can write and you can… be my slave or house husband or something.

I stop with my lips pursed, trying to keep a straight face and turn to look at you. You pretend to be hurt but your face is amused so I laugh. But the more I think of us living along by the beach I realise that it’s actually not an awful idea. Us in a little house with a bedroom this size, where we could open the window and let that poor fly out and in return hear the ocean brush across the beach.

– We can cook amazing pasta dinners and walk along the shore or drink whiskey in front of tv series and have sex everywhere in every room. And it won’t even cost that much, Daniel, think about it!

– And when we get bored we could just invite all of our friends out for a massive party.

I turn onto my side so I can freely gesture with my right hand about our future as faraway fugitives escaping the city life. You roll your eyes at my more obscene suggestions and I accept the challenge to shock you even more. When I finish I lean my chin in my other hand and look at you for response. We’ve derailed our dream into unattainability, maybe because the thought of it being possible is terrifying.

I stand up on your mattress with the white sheets curled around my ankles and reach high up towards the window. My fingertips grab hold of the handle and I twist and push it open. But the fly heads back into the house and away from my attempt to save it. Once we’re offered what would save us, why is it that we all run the other direction?

I plunge back down into the depth of the bed. The noise from fast fixie bikes and shouting bus drivers flood in through the window. Some kids walking down the road are half screaming half laughing as they tease one another and the pub next door is already filling up. I guess it’s not really the ocean, but it’ll do.

 

Linn

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