After Ian had pushed himself up with a groan and left her sitting in the kitchen, Giselle contemplated in silence. The bottle and two glasses stood next to her, lost in the empty space. The dim light of street lamps illuminated the ceiling. Enough so she could make out her surroundings. In the bedroom, the light went out and Ian had gone to sleep. Maybe. She didn't know if he was still on the phone, texting or playing a game.

Without a real reason to move, she stayed there for minutes and finished her glass of ash tray. Then she took out her phone and glanced through the messages.

Annie: "Thanks for leaving me stranded with Ian's ex :face_with_rolling_eyes:. She is taking me home, not that you care"

Laureen: "Hey Giselle, my date ditched me today, but I have cinema tickets for tomorrow evening, want to hang out?"

Mom: "Look what I found in a box!!"

Giselle turned off the phone and ignored the messages. Instead she emptied her glass and pushed herself off the ground. Immediately her vision spun and soft stars flickered. "Right, that's why I don't drink this crap", she muttered to herself, left the glass next to Ian's and shuffled on her bum towards the sofa. The climb onto it was simple enough and when she was lying on her back, facing the ceiling, she realized, her sense of balance short circuited. She saw the ceiling lamp circle and tilt. Her hand covered both her eyes and she took deep breaths. Yet it didn't subside.

Sleep came over her swiftly. Giselle drifted into unnerving dreams, of her chasing a car across a beach, escaping a house of a thousand rooms by running through door after door and finally a stairwell of dolls, each glaring at her with sad eyes. On second glance, she realized the dolls had Ian's, Laury's, Annie's, Cel's faces. Mixed between those four were the faces of customers, her parents and old friends from school. At the end of the stairwell stood a kid, she looked a bit like Celestine. It pointed at her and yelled, "It's your fault! It's your fault! It's your ...". Drenched in sweat, Giselle awoke. She was freezing cold and found herself panting and her hands trembled.

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"Ah fuck...", she mumbled and reached behind her to the pile of blankets. After snuggling into the warmth of the woolen cover, she felt a lot better. And safer.

Around 5am, it was light enough for her to wake on her own. The second half of the night had been better than the first. The alcohol had dissipated overnight and, thankful to whatever deity that watched over her, there was no headache.

On instinct, Giselle took a shower, brushed her teeth, got rid of the makeup and realized it was Sunday. A day without work and without plans. Eventually she cleaned up the kitchen and sat on the sofa in a dressing gown under the woolen blanket, waiting for Ian to wake up.

The messages on her phone were still unanswered, but she would remedy that now. Annie could be ignored for now, as there was nothing to say after the ruined date. To Laury she composed an answer.

Giselle: "I'll get back to you. What'd you have in mind watching?"

And attended to her mother. The photo was a childhood memory of visiting southern Italy. On a market they had found a Moroccan trader with wooden, hand-carved figurines. Her mother had spent about an hour haggling with the trader and for whatever reason she managed to get the price down to less than half. It did cost her a kiss on the trader's cheek. Giselle had been too small to remember all the details, except that it had been a long discussion. Finally the elephant was hers, it was her favorite toy for a while, after which it became a decoration until she started to have boyfriends and redecorated her room with posters of bands and a lava lamp.

Giselle: "Oh! I was wondering where that thing went. Think we should sell it? It's probably worth a lot nowadays, the tusks are ivory after all?"

Memories were nice and all, but keeping a stash of keepsakes had never been her cup of tea. After sending that text to her mother, she flicked through old photographs for a while, watched a video of a cat climb a house wall and then read the latest Instagram stories.

When scrolling through random images stopped being as interesting, she glanced from the phone into the room and took a deep breath. The uncertainty ate at her.

Around 6am, Ian woke up and shuffled out of the bedroom to the bathroom. He seemed sleepy and didn't glance over. "Morning!", she said softly, but received no reply.

The wait was short until he sat down on the sofa and stared straight ahead. He opened his mouth multiple times before finally uttering the fateful words, she didn't want to hear, "This ain't working, Giselle. We gotta split up for a while"