"George!" I scream my lungs out at the bottom of the staircase. "Where did you put my headphones?"

"I don't have them!" he shouts back from his bedroom.

I trudge upstairs angrily. I can't write without music in my ears and I am three chapters away from my first draft. A draft that Laura promised me she would take with her on her trip to Vegas to read. She leaves in two days and I have three chapters to complete. The most important chapters, I may add. I need my damn headphones.

I open the door and see George laying down on his bed reading a magazine and my headphones on his head. I walk over and remove them.

"Hey!" he protests.

"Stop taking my stuff!"

George gets up. "You were not using them!"

I roll my eyes in annoyance. "You are sooooo..." I grunt. "I miss Maria!" I storm out.

"Love you too!" he screams in response.

George has successfully evicted the previous flatmate and also managed to scare off five potential flatmates. The landlord is getting desperate and so am I. I need someone else living in this space, so his attention is not on me and, most importantly, my stuff. I walk back downstairs and connect my headphones to my phone. I open my smartphone and see an email notification. 

I sit on the chair and blast some music and stare at the empty page on my screen. It's taunting me again. My laptop shows the same email notification. I only get junk mail in my personal account. It's like there is a marketing conspiracy to make me buy more stuff I just don't need. I look again at the blank page. I type Chapter 35 and allow the cursor to blink away.

I sigh and look around, humming the tune playing on my Spotify list. I decide to check my email to see what promotional offer I've received to distract my already very unfocussed mind. And, most likely to spend money I don't have, on something I definitely don't need.

I click on the icon on the right-hand side and allow the computer to open my Outlook application. I continue to hum distractedly while swiping at the next song on my playlist.

I look back up at the screen and the sender name catches me off guard.

Daniel Schmidt.

My eyes scan the subject line that has a simple 'Hello' in it.

I push the chair violently and sprint away from the laptop. I run towards the sink and open the tap. I'm not sure why. Someone touches my shoulder and jerks me back to earth. George glares at the tap water descending on the pipes and then back at me.

"What are you doing?" He asks with his eyebrow raised.

"Washing dishes." I respond.

"Where are the dishes?" he smirks and reaches for the tap, closing it. "Let's not waste water with the planet dying and all..." he looks at me tauntingly.

I remove my headphones and leave them hanging around my neck. I look at my laptop and the unread email. George follows my gaze.

"Are you having some meltdown over the book?" He asks monotonously.

"Yes" I blurt out. My stomach roars. Stupid feline.

George gives me a sideway glance. "It's not just the book, is it?"

"No. I got an email... from him."

George perks up. "The one that shall not be named?" He struts across the room to reach the laptop and sits down. "You haven't opened it?"

I shake my head and clutch my stomach that roars again.

"Are you going to open it?"

I hesitate. "Eventually. I guess. Must be something to do with the wedding."

"Maybe." He stares at the laptop.

I walk over to the kitchen cabinet and open it to retrieve a water glass.

"Hey Kleiner,"

I almost drop the glass and turn around. George is reading the freaking email. "What are you doing?" I scream.

"Doing what you're too scared of. Why is he calling you..." He focuses momentarily on the screen, re-reading the word. "Kleiner?" he asks with the most British pronunciation of the German word one could possibly muster.

"None of your business." I want to walk over, but I'm too afraid.

George smiles. "Do you want me to continue?"

"No," I say while nodding my head.

George goes back to the email. "I've re-written this email at least a thousand times. I'm not even sure I will have the courage to hit send." George scoffs and looks at me. "Well, clearly he has."

I roll my eyes in response, holding the empty glass in my hands as if I'm holding a precious metal that is about to be snatched away from me.

"Do you want me to continue, or do you want to read the rest yourself?"

I want to say that I'm going to read it myself. But, the truth is, I'm too afraid to see what he has to say after all this time.

"I'll assume your statuette figure is a nod at me to continue." George says and goes back to the email. "I hope you are doing well. I'm told you are."

I know this is a Gunther update. George's voice seems to fade away and my mind listens to his dictation in Daniel's voice.

"New York is big and confusing. Similar to London, I guess. I miss Meerbusch dearly, and can't wait to go home for the wedding. When are you going to travel to Germany? I would like to throw them a party at my place a few days before the wedding and as you are the maid of honour, we could organise it together. But it's up to you. I also understand if you want nothing to do with me. Hopefully, we will speak soon. Daniel."

His voice fades in the distance. His email is to the point and lacks any hint of longing for us. Why would it? I look at my empty glass, still clutched in my hands silently.

"Are you okay?" George asks.

I lift my eyes up to notice that he has got up and stands in front of me. I shrug in response and allow my eyes to flood with tears. George hugs me. His chin rests on top of my head, and he pats me softly on the back.

"Do you want me to delete the email?" he asks.

I shake my head while soaking his t-shirt with my tears.

"Do you want me to reply to the email?"

I shake my head again, but this time release an impromptu laugh while crying at the thought of George replying to the email. It would be the most brutal response in the world.

"What do you want me to do?"

I hug him fiercely. "Nothing for now. Just let me be like this."

He kisses the top of my head. "Fine," he mumbles, with his lips still in my head. "But, I'm definitely going to this wedding now!" he declares. "Although, we will probably need to share a room. I can't afford a room. Can I afford the plane ticket? How much to travel to Germany? Oh man, do I need to wear a suit? Maybe I can go home and get my dad's old suit..." 

I chuckle at his rambling while allowing all my repressed tears to flow freely.