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She was also the one person that could make me laugh when I wanted to cry. The person who would run her fingers through my hair at the end of a crap day, and the person who would listen to no-end of rubbish in my life-mission to fill silences. For these reasons, she was the person that I needed to talk to right now.

We’d had no dealings with each other - apart from through our solicitor - after she’d come with the van to collect our belongings. Her brother’s presence that day had given us no opportunity to talk. I was too proud to ask for any details of her new life and she’d offered none. I hadn’t even said “Goodbye” to her. I should have embraced her and wished her luck. I could have held her and savoured the feelings of physical contact and then stored them away to be retrieved when I needed them. And, I would have retrieved them a lot. It had been six months and it felt like a year too long. I needed physical contact. I needed to hold somebody. I needed that calming smell. Yes, I needed a woman’s body to comfort me. And, all I had was my own.

I’d done it again. I’d started with a straightforward problem and, through a perverse variant of Mornington Crescent, I’d arrived at Sexual Frustration. This feeling was becoming more and more common and more and more invasive. It had even caused me to look at some pictures and movie clips on a website that I’d found. They were nothing extreme – just a site for weirdoes who like to see women taking-off their knickers. My only defence is that I came across it by accident - a case of cyber-serendipity when I mistyped the URL of an entertainment site.

After a few minutes I felt much better and I went to the back bedroom. The lamp was still on and I could feel its friendly warmth. I thought to turn it off. No. As long as it was on, he would not return. I looked out from the window at a pleasantly familiar scene. The sky was overcast for the first time in a week but nothing else had changed. All the shrubs and plants were still there. The stapler lay on the lawn and the hole-punch was where he had kicked it.