I had a dream that your lover left you. It’s been years, through which I have convinced myself not to care.

At best, the memory of you would only just tug at my clothes, that of which I would simply displace. I remember telling myself that this would wash and wilt away with time, but I suppose it’s never that simple. I threw this one out into the ocean, never sparing a thought for the tides.

Within dream physics, I watched you sob yourself to sleep at an arms distance from inside your bedroom. Like a ghost, I stood next to you and witnessed you fall apart. I remember being troubled with the decision of whether or not I should comfort you.

It didn’t matter if you could hear me or not; I still froze at the question. Very slowly, you came down to whimpers, which by then I had left.

I awoke with an uncanny aftertaste in my mouth. Its flavour was stale. Still, it had retained some of its original design; just enough for me to recognise it.