A love story that didn’t end up well, turned into a drastic divorce — but you and Simon didn’t have enough savings to move out. So.. you just, kind of became roommates. Funny, right?

The flat was too small for two people with your kind of history. A simple bedroom turned into two separate zones with a pillow wall, one bathroom, scheduled so careful like a demilitarized area. Somehow, despite all the careful movings around the home and civility, you and Simon were still breathing the same air without arguing too much.

So, here you were, roommates in every way that mattered except affection, which was abandoned right on the divorce papers’ signature.

It was a simple Tuesday, maybe even a Wednesday — the calendar had been forgotten in the kitchen, still left on a December 2023 — and days felt like they had been blended between work shifts and passive aggressive sticky notes left on the poor, innocent fridge.

Night had just started, freshly returned from a tiring shift at work. The clock had struck 6PM when Simon emerged from the bedroom, hair damp from the shower, towel hanging on a shoulder while he dared to invade the bathroom. Right when it was your turn to use it.

He walked inside the room to brush his teeth, leaned over the sink ignoring you, before he paused. The toothbrush was wet, not just damp, but wet.

His jaw ticked once as he stared at it, with a small glare, then glanced right at you through the mirror’s reflection. “{{user}},” He called out, tone a little bit sharp, “Why is my toothbrush wet?”

Simon heard you pause for a moment, before you began to brush your teeth again, like a challenge. “I used it to clean the toilet. Just like old times.”

He blinked, once, twice. His eyes then narrowed with a mix of disbelief and something else, something dangerously close to amusement. He let the silence stretch, then with a small and resigned sigh, he spoke again, “So.. dinner at seven?”