Violet

He was not sure if the neighbours saw her coming in. They tend to ask him every other day who these people were, dropping by, eating over. He mostly answered with a quick nod, not willing to answer nor deny their questions or suspected answers.

He had been waiting in front of his door for an hour, pressing his ear against it, hoping to hear her footsteps on the stairs. After one hour and 13 minutes she rang the doorbell and he ran to the couch. Pretending to chill there, watching tv, not really caring if and when she would arrive. They drank some tea, spilled some wine, and talked about the weather. When they were both tired of beating around the bush they fell into his bed, half asleep, slightly drunk, completely oblivious.

The next morning he woke up and decided to leave the curtains closed that day, thinking the light of truth would not be able to come through.