Colette's in town for the weekend, to watch Eurovision with Jason, her Eurovision date for the last 15 years. She invited me along too when our breakfast-date was hijacked by a hangover.
The apartment was elegant, in a modern interior-design way, spacious and uncluttered, everything white, grey or dark, stained woods, expensive. I hadn't seen Jason since he was a shop-assistant at DJ's - now he's some high-powered exec at DJ's, who owns a swank apartment. He and his partner of many years also split a few months ago, in Melbourne, and here Jason was, in his flat, with his job, and a beautiful, simple, sweet young neighbour leaning into his side on the comfortable white leather lounge, while we marked our scores for Belarus, Cyprus and Germany.
As Colette sat next to me, eating Maltesers, I wondered why I wasn't Jason.
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