I avoid her, like I do with all of them. Housemates ask the usual questions, giggling, spluttering. I reply the usual reply.”It’s just a girl”. (Any girl. The wrong girl). I text Ella. Grab lunch. Something boring, can’t remember much. I nap and wake up thinking of her (and her). My parents phone, I don’t pick up. I lie and tell them I’m at a lecture (the one I slept through). They believe me, as usual. I throw up – it was spag bol. I laugh. Go to sleep. Wait patiently for the next day. The next dream.