Joe and Dianne: Life away from you

It wasn't her

Narrator's POV:

Joe continued to toss and turn. The formality of sleep moving further and further away from him with every passing breath. The fact that his tired brain and heavy eyelids were having no effect on the wanted outcome Infuriated him , and Joe knew exactly why. Reaching over to his left, careful not to knock over his glass of water, Joe turned on the strings of fairy lights that lay dangling against the wall over his bed. Iluuminating his empty room with a murky yellow haze.

As Joe looked over to the other side of his bed, he knew the one reason that he couldn't shut his eyes and drift off into the peaceful dream land that he craved so much. The white bed sheets that felt smooth on his bare back, and crinkled slightly as his hand stretched out across them, were not their usual pristine white. For whenever Dianne spent more than a couple of nights in Joe's bed, the odd splash of red took residence. The odd pinkish dot apearing here and there, yet still they were overshadowed by the deep red hue of not only Dianne's but also Joe's pillows. The endless nights of falling asleep in eachothers arms resulting in a huge spread of red hair dye.

But now even after one night away, it seemed as if the red hue was begining to fade, and Joe could no longer fall asleep. So in admitant defeat, leaving the lights on. Joe got out of bed, chucked on a pair of joggers and headed down the stairs, into his neatly, and precisely laid out kitchen, turning the kettle on. As he stood waiting for the water to boil, Joe's mind was blank, and as he lent against the kitchen worktop, found himself mesmorised by the sharp blue light of the kettle, the boiling water jumping and moving about inside. But soon his attention was turned. By nothing more but the unexpected buzz of the small screen by the side of his front door. Walking over, Joe's head was still in no direction at all. His thouhgts barely a whisper as his tired state was finally taking its toll now that he was out of bed. And so, in his tired state Joe didn't take the time to pause and see who it was that was hoping to enter his lavish home. Pressing the button casually, allowing the late night caller to enter his home, without a care in the world. Like he always did, Joe sat on his stairs, the sound of the kettle finishing off becoming nothing more than background noise to his tired and distant thoughts, waiting for the sound of the lift to come bellowing up to the right floor, and then the formidable sound of three heavy knocks on the door.

Standing up Joe turned the corner, wiping his eyes once, in an attempt to look more accomodating for whoever it was that decided to call on him at one o'clock in the morning. As he opened the door, Joe was greeted by a tall man. Large in stature, he had short, dark hair and piercing green eyes. A loose jacket covering his fitted white t-shirt and black jeans ensemble, keeping out the chill of the night.

"Um, is Dianne here Joe?" The man asked quietly. His hushed and calming voice in no way representing his large stature - however the slight twang of a manchunion accent made Joe's bones shiver with vengence at the reminder of what Dianne had done.

"How do you know Dianne?" Joe asked, fearful of the answer he would recieve.

"My name is Anthony Quinlan, I'm Dianne's ex-boyfriend." But this was worse. The man that had wrecked the best thing to ever happen to Joe was stood at his front door, with the audacity to take back what Joe owns. That was worse, much worse, then the feeling of knowing Dianne had cheated in the first place. But Joe was never the jealous type. And he certainly wasn't about to alter his personality just because of something that Dianne had done to him. He would never retort to violence or harsh language, so instead he swallowed his bitterness and acted as calmly as he could.

"Well.... Dianne isn't here. And if you wouldn't mind, I would quite like some sleep. Goodbye Anthony" As he went to shut his front door, Joe's action was cut short by the strong and heavy hand of the recent stranger pushing back to keep it open.