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.