We are the ghosts of Brooklyn. We are the infamous star-crossed lovers with a tragic past. We are no Romeo and Juliet. We are just two souls who found each other in the darkest hour. As I am telling this story, I am writing it down on a loose sheet of paper.

Thursday, 7.09am: pillow bliss.

Oh my gosh can’t be arsed. It’s school ‘girls monthly dins’ tonight after work, but I wish I could just come back and sleep. Ergh I am so tired, should I text them now and plant the seed that I may need to work late, or spring it on them at 4.40pm so there’s no opportunity for them to doubt the legitimacy of my excuse?