It's easier for you to know.

It happens unexpectedly. Maybe you're walking down the street or sitting on a park bench. It's evening, it's dark. The light winter rain is making your skin tingle, like you've been kissed. Maybe you're just thinking how you should've worn a jacket when it happens. A couple walks past you under an umbrella, looking into each other's eyes and laughing. You don't think anything of it and you begin to make your way home.

But as you're walking, you begin to see more and more people, some in couples, some in larger groups, strolling along, standing in little groups outside bars, warming their hands on hot mugs in brightly lit coffee shops.

By the time you get to your building your head is down watching each splash your feet make in the puddles. You take the stairs up to your floor two at a time and you slam your door behind you.

You stand there, staring around your apartment, maybe your breathing is a bit heavy, maybe you're panting a little. You're staring around at all the things you own and you're trying to find one thing, that one special thing which carries with it the memory of a friend. Something, anything, to tell you you're not alone in your life.

Later on, you'll get tired and you'll crawl into bed with all your clothes on and wrap your fluffy duvet around you. You'll lie on your stomach and you'll reach for the notepad and pencil on your bedside table. In the lamplight you'll start to write a list of your friends. Maybe you'll get one or two names, maybe you'll get six or seven. Either way you'll feel like shit when you wake up in the morning.