Nemo - V - "Fuck you."

I left the phone on the bed and forced myself to get up.

I needed to do something, anything that would stop me from continuing to stare at that screen.

I opened the curtains. The city was still awake under the yellowish glow of the streetlights. From that height, the cars seemed to move with an almost unreal calm, completely unaware of the chaos running through my insides.

I felt hungry. Not because I really was, but because I remembered I hadn’t eaten all day.

I opened the hotel’s small fridge. There were a couple of bottles of water, a soda, and some overpriced chocolate bars. I went down to reception and bought a plastic-wrapped sandwich, which I ended up eating while sitting by the window.

Completely tasteless.

I chewed out of sheer obligation, my gaze lost in the glass, the phone lying face down on the table. Every few seconds I glanced toward it, waiting for another vibration that never came.

When I finished, I picked up the wrapper with almost mechanical care and dropped it in the trash.

The room still felt suffocating.

I went into the bathroom.

I turned on the sink tap and let the water run for a few seconds before splashing my face. The reflection the mirror gave back to me looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. My eyes were red, and my expression was empty in a way I had trouble recognizing as my own.

I rested my hands on the marble and took a deep breath.

I needed to stop thinking, but it was impossible.

Every corner of that room ended up leading me back to him.

The smell of the hotel soap reminded me of another hotel.

The perfectly folded towel made me think of the first time we had shared a room.

And, almost without realizing it, I returned to those nights.

-------------------------------

Looking back, there wasn’t one specific day when everything changed. I didn’t wake up one morning turned into a different person. Nor was there an argument, a threat, or an ultimatum that split our story into a before and after.

It was much quieter, even insidious.

After that night, after being baptized as Nemo, our relationship took on a different shape. We still laughed, we still talked for hours, and I still felt like the luckiest man in the world when his name appeared on the screen. If anyone had asked me then, I would have said without hesitation that I was living the healthiest and most sincere relationship I had ever had.

That’s why I didn’t see the rest coming. The changes always arrived disguised as affection.

One afternoon, while packing a suitcase to go see him, I sent him a photo of the clothes I was planning to wear. He replied almost instantly.

“The blue shirt suits you better. That white one makes you look too serious.”

It amused me and, of course, I listened to him.

After all, what was wrong with taking a...