The gift and curse of a lockdown breakup is you have no way to escape it. Instead of going out into the world, you must turn inward
Covid-19 couldn’t stop hard rubbish scavengers – they were still out scouring for fortune. I’d just dragged our old gold-painted bed frame on to the curb. A masked treasure hunter emerged from a ute.
“Morning mate,” he chirped, grabbing it.
He was so casual. Like I’d placed it there just for him. Like he wasn’t ripping my heart out of my chest. Like he wasn’t taking away part of the bed where Holly and I had shared a life together. I put off dragging the mattress out – I had a sour taste in my mouth.