He was crouched
Inside, waiting, almost dead with excitement, holding his breath in his sweaty hand.
Was the radio on?
Something came through a door downstairs.
He wanted to laugh, sitting tight, waiting but then unexpectedly felt, worried; scared. The hairs on the back of his neck.
What if I made her jump? He was suddenly stuck, looking through the crack of light, not knowing whether to step out or not.
And when he did, when he finally did, with a rising sense of relief, wanting to laugh he found you gone.
He was alone with the alien noises next door now and the lights of the silent flats opposite, snatching at a distant sound disappearing from inside.
The bed still warm
he felt like he was still hiding from something already gone.