I’m awake again, eyes half closed and a slight smile drawn on my face in light pencil, dark enough to be seen but light enough to be rubbed away. I reach across for a packet of cigarettes, my hand falls on the packet and for a second I’m desperate, then I remember I’m not addicted and manage to pull away, my smile pencilled in a little deeper, if you rubbed it out, you could still see that it had been there. I look around me and push away the covers, my legs look up at me and I smile down at them, wondering why we couldn’t get along before, when they are clearly quite acceptable.

They swing over the bed and

onto the floor, I pushed my hair up, not running my fingers through it, but just pushing it aside and then think about standing from the comfy bed I’ve been laying in for the past eighteen years. It wasn’t good for me, but comfy. It was warm, comforting, almost a safe place for me to hide away. All I had to do was stay there, sink my head into the pillows, be at one with my sheets and hold the duvet over my head, nobody could get me in my comfy bed.

I stand up. I don’t need my bed any more because I feel safe wherever I am, and everything around me is a beautiful shade of black, soaking up each tiny ray of sunlight and warming me far better than my safe, comfy bed ever could.

I light a cigarette, just for the smell, the smoke wraps around me and my smile is scribbled on with a huge red felt tip, it looks childish, and adorable, like the freckles I wear proudly. I used to hide each and every one with a disgusting foundation, I’d feel closed in, suffocating in my make up, and on my bed, but now I’m standing and my face is free, and I feel almost free again.

I can feel it, but it’s so hard to explain. I haven’t talked about it, because I don’t know how and I’m trying now, but it’s no use. I open my mouth, my big, red, childish mouth but nothing escapes, not even a breath. My smile becomes a smirk for a second as the door opens, then I think of a word.

“Hello.”

It’s all I can say as I see you, nothing else seems right. I could try and tell you how I feel, but it would sound stupid, or I could try and describe you, but I’d never manage it, so I just say it again.

“Hello.”

You say it back, with your own red smile.

“Hello.”

Then I know what it all means. We’ve found it. We’ve found our special word, and now we’ll never have to cringe at “I love you.” again.

Hello, Hello, Hello, you lovely, lonely man.