‘Hi Julie.
How are you?
Sorry to bother you, but I haven’t heard from Alison in over a week now, and that just seems really odd. So, I wondered whether you knew if anything had happened? If you could please let me know whether you’ve heard from her, I’d be most grateful.
Cheers.’
And then after I sent it, the sensation was purgatory and hell rolled into one.
I spent most of the day waiting for a reply. It was gone five by the time one dropped into my inbox, but until then I was sat so nervous at my desk, barely able to concentrate on what was in front of me. Regret bubbled up in my soul almost as soon as I pressed send, then through all those hours of waiting it turned into a dagger jammed hard into my side. What on earth was I thinking? Whatever was happening, it was an issue for me and my girlfriend and not for the wider world. How could I be so stupid? All day long I thought that Julie must be laughing at me. Or worse, that she’d forwarded the message onto Alison and they were both laughing at me. For most of the day I thought – even though I know Julie has a busy job with lots of meetings and so on – that not only was Alison not speaking to me, but she’d instructed her friends not to speak to me either. All I was going to get now, no matter where I tried, was a terrible and impenetrable wall of silence. It was an awful day, an unendurable day – six hours of my life that I wish I’d never gone through.
Finally, at 5.16, a reply arrived:
“Hey!
I’ve not heard anything, I’m afraid. I’m sure she’s fine though. You should chill.
Have a great weekend!
Julie.’
It was the worst possible reply. It told me absolutely nothing at all.
Finally, at 5.16, a reply arrived:
“Hey!
I’ve not heard anything, I’m afraid. I’m sure she’s fine though. You should chill.
Have a great weekend!
Julie.’
It was the worst possible reply. It told me absolutely nothing at all.
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