OOM: Christmas Night

His mam had called it a night much later than she usually did - whether to spare them being alone together or just to make the most of their company, he doesn't know. He's happy with either reason; he doesn't get to see enough of her as it is and it's back to work tomorrow. So the evening had been companionable and the television had covered the awkward gap between his mother going upstairs and Alex following. He'd been quite pissed by that time, drowsing on the sofa, the effects of the previous night catching up to him.

Once alone though, it's impossible to switch it off. There are no distractions to stop him thinking about the situation, about how it'd felt, about her. He sleeps a while and wakes up in pitch darkness thinking about her, drifts back down, wakes up. Thinking about her.

In the end, he's had enough. A cup of tea and a smoke is what's needed. Forcing himself to stay awake for an hour should be enough to tire him out for the rest of the night; he gets up and pads into the kitchen in his pyjama trousers and a white T-shirt, flicks the light on and sparks a fag as he puts the kettle on to boil.