Sixty-Two

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"I can be elusive, if you want me to. I'm not being intrusive, I just wish I knew the truth"

 I'm not being intrusive, I just wish I knew the truth"

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Using all of my energy, I scrub the countertop with all my might, trying to get rid of a stain that just isn't there

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Using all of my energy, I scrub the countertop with all my might, trying to get rid of a stain that just isn't there. Panting, I hear my phone going off in the other room, and remove my gloves as I walk towards the sound of my ringtone.

Gemma.

"Hey Gem, where are you?" I sigh, probably coming off as quite breathless.

"Almost there, I just needed to stop to get a coffee. Did you want anything while I'm out?"

"I'm good," I assure her. "Just hurry, please," I add, the urgency inescapable in my tone.

Pausing, I hear the sound of her gulping before she answers me.

"Sure, I'll be there in ten."

Checking my watch, I find it hard not to worry about Harry, and the fact that it's been over 12 hours since he last left the house in a huff. I know better than to expect for things to be peaches and cream, but I could never have predicted that he wouldn't return home.

The fight itself has made me do some hard questioning within myself, and there's a strong possibility we really did jump the gun. Perhaps this was all too soon, and it might even do me some good to move back into my own space again.

I don't at first hear Gemma come in, but get a fright when I collide with her on my way out from the laundry room.

"Christ," I laugh, whilst holding my heart. "You scared me half to death."

Gemma herself looks quite frazzled, though I'm not quite sure if it has much to do with the minor scare, or something else altogether.

"So he's not back then, I take it?" Gemma asks, setting her car keys down on the table as she pulls out a chair to sit. There are some telltale signs from her mannerisms that make me believe that something isn't quite right, but I refrain from prying further. If it's important, she'll tell me.

"No, and I haven't heard anything from him since he left," I admit, turning on the kettle before I too, take a seat beside her at the table.

"What was the last conversation you had with him?" she asks, taking a sip from her takeaway cup of coffee.

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