You just hung up the phone before he came into the apartment. He is tired, exhausted, his eyes are closing from lack of sleep, but he finds the strength to smile at you, his companion in return, when you hug him from the threshold.

Michael sighed and pulled off his shoes. He took a couple of steps through your small studio apartment and fell onto a folded folding sofa that creaked treacherously.

The muted yellow light from the floor lamp by the sofa and the light bulb above the mirror illuminated your four walls. Neither you nor he liked to turn on the main light, you were almost always in semi-darkness to save the already scarce electricity.