Summer never felt so bitterly cold. His last words stay encapsulated inside my heart as I navigate every day mundanely trying to piece back together my sense of self. I allow my legs to run as fast as they can through the crowds of people allowing their skins to breathe in the sunrays that shine through. I was always a runner in the metaphorical sense. Now, I'm accomplishing my soul's desire as I sprint through the park.

I've started running two days after the fated wedding that left my heart in tatters. Running is the only time when my mind is vacant enough to allow some respite from my memories of him.

I check my wristwatch to monitor my heart beats. The date displays on the right-hand corner and awakens my jogging daze. One year ago, I was sitting with Wendy being offered the internship that changed my professional life and doomed my poor heart. My legs stop and I force an exhale.

Suddenly the vibrant green from the tree tops has faded away. I can hear people whispering indistinctly but their voices are carried away by the soft breeze that tingles my sweaty neck. The happy mood that greeted me in the morning fades away in the distance. 

My phone chimes with a WhatsApp message. I walk over to a nearby bench and take my phone from the small pocket of my leggings. I slide my thumb carelessly and slide the notification open with my indicator.

"Hey, you!" Emily's text reads. "How have you been stranger?"

I sigh and look around the park. How am I? Shit, Emily. My brain responds.

I type quickly. "Doing good. How 'bout you?"

I see the three dots appearing and remember the time where those three dots belonged to someone else. Someone I have deleted three months ago.

"I'm coming to London!" I can hear her chirpy voice clearly in my head while reading her text. "Actually, we're coming to London. Gunther and I..." she fesses up.

I smirk. It's nice she's trying to stay in touch, although Gunther is his friend. And we were barely friends... and Gunther and Emily were together. And we're not. My brain reminisces memories buried in the back of my mind.

"That's great to hear. Let me know if you have time to catch up whilst you're here?" I type and press send. That sounded quite formal... Was it too formal? 

"I would love to see you again." I quickly type to defend my earlier text.

The three dots re-appear but my mobile rings before I'm able to check her response. I pick up the call.

"Yes, Laura?" I answer the phone in two rings.

"Hi Natalie. Sorry to disturb you after hours, but I need a favour." I listen intently to Laura's request.

"Absolutely. I will just go home and take a quick shower and I will be there." I respond.

The best part of my Germany affair is my current professional achievement. I work in a prestigious publisher, reading manuscripts for a living and making steady progress with my first book. I sprint out of my seat and make my way back to the tiny London shared flat I currently reside in. Miles apart from my spacious one bedroom apartment back in Meerbusch. 

"Jorge!" Maria screams George's name as Jorge in typical Spanish fashion. Although George, with his tallness, ginger hair and green eyes, is a far away as possible to any slight resemblance to a Latino. 

"Jorge!" she screams again whilst I softly close the main door. 

Maria explodes a string of Spanish words that look a lot like a mixture of curse words at our flatmate that remains expressionless, with his back on the counter and his arms crossed. He sports a stupid smirk on his face, clearly not aggravated or sorry for whatever he has (or not) done. Maria finishes her expletives and storms out of the kitchen before banging her door.

"What have you done now?" I ask, while removing my earphones.

George shrugs. "Something to do with laundry, I guess?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "When she moves out, am I your next target?"

He peels himself from the counter and walks slowly towards me. His tallness hovering over me. "I actually like you," he counters.

"Oh, lucky me then." I smirk.

George and I get along famously well. He doesn't get so well with the Spaniard that screams and bangs doors far too much. George made a promise to himself and I guess the whole country that he would get rid of her. I think he's halfway to an accomplished task. I almost feel he would do great in politics. Especially an ally to the Tories that seem intent in driving everyone out of this country as it is. George and his particular mood would do a great job in driving anyone with an inch of insanity away. 

"Want to have some supper together and watch something on Netflix?"

"Can't." I say while opening the fridge and pouring some cold water on a glass. "Laura has asked me to drop by the office and pick some things for tomorrow."

George rolls his eyes. "So, you're her errand girl now?"

I take a gulp of water. "I'm doing what I need to do so she can read my manuscript when it's ready."

He puts his arm over my shoulders. "And when will I get to read that beauty?"

"When I'm ready." I down the rest of the water. "Let me hop in the shower and make my way out."

"Want some company?" He asks.

"You're that bored?" I giggle.

He shrugs. "Just don't want another screaming match with Cruella over there."

A buzz reminds me I left a conversation unfinished with Emily. I take my phone and see a couple of notifications. "Okay, go get changed. I'll shower and we'll meet in twenty down here." I unlock the phone and open Emily's text.

"Dinner tomorrow night?" Her text says.

"Who's Emily?" He looks at my phone.

I close my phone and hide it. "Do you mind not reading my private messages?"

George shrugs. "I would have to be a gentleman for that." He walks out of the kitchen. "I'm going to my room to change."

"Okay!" I say loudly and go back to my phone and start texting her back. "That sounds great. Text me where you are staying and I'll figure someplace for us to meet." I wonder for a moment if that is also too formal. I decide to complement the message with an "X" and hit send.

I walk to the bathroom and hop into the shower. My mind races at how my reunion will be with Emily. I barely have talked to her after he left. She tried. A valiant effort. But, me, being the foolish person that I am, intent on moving on from his ghost, decided instead to block everyone that could be remotely connected to him. And, to my shame, that included my first friend in Germany, the green-haired Kiwi.

While allowing the water to cascade down my body, my mind allows itself to wonder to moments in the past. Bittersweet moments where I was at my happiest. The thoughts swirling around my head are so pervasive that I forget if I have conditioned my hair or not. I curse myself for my intrusive thoughts. How I wish my nostalgia would fade away to the background.

I leave the bathroom and make my way to my bedroom, where I take some clothes to put on before disentangling my hair. I decide to put some music on and pick up my mobile to open the music app.

A notification on my phone appears. I open and see Emily's notification on Instagram to connect. Or, should I say, re-connect since I removed her. I suddenly regret my acceptance of having dinner with her. The shame I feel about disappearing as quickly as Houdini from his cuffs, grows with every second.

I sigh and accept her friend's request. This is my way of accepting the olive branch she's handing to me. I'm about to close the app when an intense urge takes over me. I ponder if I will see him on her Insta. I open her profile and shamelessly scrutinise every photo for hints of him.

Within three scrolls, his face comes into view. A photo of Emily and Gunther with him. The caption reads 'A night in downtown @NYC'. She hasn't tagged him, only Gunther. I sit on the bed and lose myself on him.

I realise how much I miss him still. I scroll to the following picture eagerly, hoping for another glimpse of him which never comes. The picture was three weeks ago. Although it seems a lifetime away.

A pound at the door awakens me.

"Are you ready or what?" George's voice is heard from outside the bedroom.

"In a minute!" I respond, stifling a sob.

I take a deep breath. I wonder if he also feels haunted to this day, too, by memories of our shared past. But quickly I put that ridiculous thought out of my mind. He has kept his promise. A break up.

"Move on, Natalie..." I mutter to myself and get up to greet an anxious George on the other side of the door.