Soft Landing — Pullover Hoodie

I don't need to explain this particularly well, do I?

Your friend says no. You have already told them that you are pleased to be moving into your own place, which is true, and that telling your flatmate went well, which is also true. Then why, you would like to know, did you nearly cry when she asked whether you were taking the colander?

It is a terrible colander. One of the feet melted years ago. You have to prop it against the side of the sink, a small domestic arrangement that neither of you remembers agreeing to and both of you understand. Your new kitchen will have enough cupboards. Nobody will finish the good mustard. You have looked forward to these things with a level of enthusiasm that now seems disloyal to a damaged utensil. You hope your replacement is nice. Not so nice that the whole adjustment takes an afternoon.

You settle further into your friend's sofa, the pine hoodie bunched behind your neck, and explain the mustard. Your friend remembers a more serious dispute about a lime. You tell them that was different. They ask how. You have a remarkably complete answer.

Halfway through it, your phone lights up. Your flatmate has sent a photograph of the colander wearing your sunglasses. Underneath: HE'S TAKING IT BADLY. You send back that you are happy to discuss access at weekends. She asks about Christmas.

You show your friend. They move the biscuits closer and ask whether the colander would prefer to stay near its school. For the first time all evening, you can imagine telling your flatmate how much you are going to miss her. You will probably have to say it to the colander first.

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