Post ten – moving to the city

Samantha and I decided to buy a flat in the city centre in 2006. I was still living with some friends in Fallowfield. I don’t know why we hadn’t considered moving in together earlier. Money was no longer an issue and we were both earning a reasonable wage.

We spent three weeks deciding where we wanted to live. Eventually, we opted to move into town, excited at the prospect of spending each day in the centre; we made plans to regularly visit museums, travel to new bars and spend time getting to know the city we had both lived in for years.

Unpacking was a nightmare. We hadn’t considered the downsides of hauling the contents of two lives up three flights of stairs. It took us all day and we spent the majority of the afternoon moving heavy boxes from one room to another.

That evening, we drank wine from two mugs while watching a television which sat on a packing box.

The city lights flooded into the bedroom that night – we still had to buy blinds for all the windows. Samantha barely slept and the next morning, I got up early to buy her an eye mask from town. One of the benefits of living next to Market Street; anything you needed was within walking distance.

Three weeks later, the hall was still full of unpacked boxes and Samantha was dead.

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