No. 28, Tunde Pellegrini Street. That’s where people think you live but they don’t know the truth. To be fair, you’re not a liar, you just don’t know the truth either. How can you? I’m the only one who knows where you really live. I’m the one whose mind you’ve turned into your home.

You moved in the first day we met. I just closed my eyes and there you were. I’m not sure how you did it; how you snuck in without me noticing. Was it when you told me your name? When I heard your voice for the first time? That soothing, attention-commanding, light, beautiful voice. No, it must have been when I saw your smile. Yeah, that’s it. Because that’s the first thing I see when I close my eyes. You moved in and it was clear you intended to stay.

You hardly ever leave. The only times you do are when you want me to see you physically.

When you’re home, you’re the most beautiful woman to ever grace an imagination. Yet, somehow, seeing you in real life always leaves me in awe. Then we wave our goodbyes to each other and I close my eyes to check if you made it back home safely. You always do.

Since you’ve moved in, I’ve never wanted you to leave. Obviously, I have selfish reasons, but it’s not just that. You look comfortable whenever I see you at home like you could stay here forever. You’re happy, too.

However, since you moved in and as time went on, seeing you when I closed my eyes stopped being enough. I wanted to see you when they were open too. So, I spat out my fear and I told you how I felt. I’ve never been so happy to be told I was a liar too. How could I have known that I was also lying about my address?

Even when we would fight and I would decide never to talk to you again, all I’d need to do was close my eyes and you’d look at me with those narrow brown eyes. That’s all it took for the ego and the pride to melt away, and all I’d want to do when I opened my eyes was set them on you again.

***

I open my eyes now and I see some siblings holding your mother. They’re all dressed in black and your siblings are trying to console her. She’s looking at you and weeping. They said it was an accident. A drunk driver. A hit and run. You don’t look like yourself, lying still in the casket.

The man who comes up to give the eulogy says that even though we’ll never see you again in this life, we should take solace in the fact that you’ve gone home, where you’ll always be comfortable and happy. I close my eyes again. He doesn’t know how right he is.

Cover Photo by Hadi Yazdi Aznaveh on Unsplash