I think I'm having fewer thoughts recently.

'What's there to think about?' K asks.

She's drinking fresh sugarcane juice and I'm drying her hair with an ancient hairdryer. She's recently withdrawn from society, and now spends all her time meditating or asleep in the bath. Her face shines like milk and her hands are turning transparent.

I respect her decision, but I miss the way things were. I used to watch her play video games for hours. Now when we talk, it's mostly about her dreams or visions of the future. Engaging in these conversations is like swallowing small pieces of ice. She dreams of sleeping naked on hot stones. She dreams of dissolving into a field of long grass.

My ex says K isn't my wife, I shouldn't be supporting a roommate long-term, but I don't care about money. I make £44k a year, working from home three days a week. We don't drink or go to restaurants or buy anything.

Two nights ago, I took out my sketchbook and charcoal, and drew two deer standing by the edge of a four-lane road. I look at them now, sleek and beautiful, with huge shining eyes, and I can tell they don't have any thoughts either.

I know this thing will be over soon. The hairdryer blows out lukewarm air and her hair smells like crushed petals. In the reflections in all the tiny mirrors on the walls, the air around her seems to be collapsing.

'I still miss my old roommate, you know,' I say. 'I loved her.'

She turns slightly to look at me. 'Like a sister?'

'Well. Not like a sister. But I wasn't trying to sleep with her either.'

K smiles. 'Is she the one from Canada?'

'No, she's Mexican-Italian.'

She doesn't hesitate for a second. 'Is that why you were learning Italian?'

'No,' I say. 'She didn't speak it or anything.'

K laughs for the first time in a week. I know because I've been keeping track. 'She's planning to pick it back up soon.'

'Okay.'

'When did you get so sincere?' she asks.

I was never insincere, I think, but I don't say anything.

.