It just didn’t look right. The small, ceramic Aphrodite on the end table by the window. In theory, there was no reason for it to look wrong. In fact, at one point that’s all there was under the window – a rounded end table with white daisies painted on the legs and a small sculpture on top. That’s all there was. And nothing seemed amiss.

Then you moved in. We spent the day arranging your things with mine. Finding ways to meld them together in the living room, so they appeared to have always been there. You pulled out three books from university; European art history with artist galleries from Paris and Italy. “I never read these anymore” you smiled coyly, “but it makes me look cerebral, ya know”.

And that’s what it became. A round end table sprinkled with white daisies, three old textbooks, and Aphrodite – in front of the window. And that’s how it stayed, for 3 years. Every day, it was part of the background in my day to day movements. It became an expected detail to touch when I lifted everything up to dust.

But then, things were packed up. It’s a shame when you have spent so much time building a seamless world, only to argue about which details belonged to who originally. My pink blankets that had spread over the sofa like a field of flowers. Your blue grey book shelves that had filled the room corners and held flickering candles. And who owned the candles? It was a gift. But I don’t like the smell. I do. You have them then.

Afterwards, I looked at my world again. Now 100% mine. Only containing my details and yet the scenery had changed. Like a storm had passed through and knocked over a tree.

It just didn’t look right. And it wouldn’t look right again.