I'm doing fine without you.

I get up in the morning, or whenever the bloody phone rings. If there's time I have breakfast without any rabbit food comments. My fridge isn't littered with cold sausages.

Always work, tending the old man's roses and lavender. The other lads are good enough. We do our best to watch one another's backs and see each other safe until the next time.

There's a pile of books I've been meaning to get to. And the window box needs sorting out again.

I can get some proper work done on the bike. Peaceful without you taking the piss about old wrecks. I can get a good long ride without you wanting to stop at every transport caff.

There's a painting half-finished. Still life. Can't get you to pose.

There's a couple of recipes I can try without you pinching half the ingredients. (Didn't realise the peppers were that hot, did you?)

I go to bed when the day's over and sleep without you hogging the covers and snoring down my earhole all night.

If I get that lonely there's usually someone for a game of darts at the local. Or perhaps I'll get myself invited round to one of the old friends who got married and complain that I never go and see them these days. A bunch of flowers, sweets for the kids, a bottle of wine, the evening taken care of.

Might even sign up for a few more art classes.

If I'm feeling randy, well, I never had trouble pulling the birds.

I'm doing fine without you.

It's better with you.

-- THE END --


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