“I’m still alive, so it seems unlikely Dylan Morgan is a serial killer even though he shares the same initial and surname as a fictional one. We missed each other for the rest of the day yesterday. My rest turned into several hours, and the house was quiet when I woke up at 10pm. Downstairs, half a pizza sat on the table with a note from Dylan informing me he’d eaten and gone for a walk. Then this note was crossed out and he’d written he’d gone to bed beneath. Half asleep, I munched on the c...old pizza considering the strange domesticity of this arrangement, and how I didn’t imagine rock stars (or whatever he is) went to bed so early. My phone beckoned me towards googling him, but I resisted. Bubble walls are very thin. This morning, Dylan’s bedroom door is open, bedding scrunched into a pile. He’s not downstairs but a dirty bowl rests in the sink. No bacon sandwiches this morning then. I sit and eat toast, in the silence of the house I came to be alone in, a house with an unwanted emptiness without Dylan, the man who shares my summer memories.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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