Peter left the door open despite the southerly blowing. It was warmer outside than it was inside his small apartment.
Without the kids to worry about, he didn’t bother turning the heater on. He took off his jumper and began putting on extra t-shirts before slipping into the outer layers. There was a particular order things needed to be put on to maximise the heat retention.
Finally, Peter placed his thrice-socked feet into the Ugg Boots, a feeling a comfort crept over him. He was ‘home’. Or at least as home as he was likely to get. He still wanted to convince Grace to take him back, to make her see that life without him was miserable.
He boiled his two-minute noodles, placed in the flavouring, and warmed his hands by the steaming water.
With the fading light dulling everything, he closed the door to eat his dinner. There once would have been a time when he’d have drained the water, but now it is too valuable for him.
This, he reminded himself, was only temporary. He’d get a better-paying job, get his shit together and be back in his own home with his own wife and kids.
Because it was a good day, or as any day could get, he tipped some whiskey into the soup for added flavour.
He turned on the radio and let the voice of some stranger calling in to guess the secret sound soothe him. The presence of another voice kept the dogs of loneliness at bay.