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I needed space and I told him.

“Space as in the relationship or space as in the apartment?”

I wasn’t surprised. It was normal for us to talk in two dialects, though we managed to understand each other in general on things that mattered.

“I mean I need mental space.”

I was not sure what I was trying to express. I had been restless the last few days, and he had been too busy, and the conversations had been too repetitive. Their banality I had begun to hate.

“I am not even sure whether I am in a relationship!”

“Go to sleep!” he says.

I did not.