Then: "No tears goodbye/I don't want you back/we'd only cry again/say goodbye again." Pop profound Plastic poetry Vinyl verse. You halt, cup in hand, and listen to the singer's far-too-theatrical voice, kettle and kitchen forgotten, memory flooded and spilling over, the imperfect present drowned by wave after wave of the past, embarrassed and pleased to discover that, yes, actually, you do remember all the words.And you remember Him. The bed remains unmade The toilet refuses to flush There's a letter from the bank in the hallway And bills. You run a hand through uncombed hair, yawn and tightly tie your tattered bathrobe, reminding yourself, as you do every other day, that it really does need replacing, that it has seen better days In the kitchen, dishes reach for the sky.

The toaster chars bread till it's black, smoke swirling in phantom forms. You cough, struggle with the latch, open the window. You turn on the radio, twirl through the static, choose a station, find the coffee, somehow locate a clean cup, wonder where the kettle is, wonder, irritation and impatience mushrooming, why it can't stay in the same bloody place And, suddenly, the song That song.You haven't heard it in years Da da da da something. "I'll certainly be going back to try and catch the boyfriend, but I'm not optimistic. Unless he brings the books back to the library himself, they'll go down as a loss All I can hope for is a speedy reconciliation.". She explained that, after a huge row, her boyfriend had ordered her out of the house He owned the property and had changed the locks. Some of her belongings, including the books, were still inside.