Following a Public Notice of infestation

Dear J_

I hope you don’t think I am reaching out to you in order for you come back to me. I do not miss you. I do not need to know where you are. I do not want you to get in touch.

While you have been away - by which I mean since you left - the halopeters have become uncontrollable. Everywhere I go, I hear them. Every single crack has them in. The cats are going mad. The dog is going mad. The neighbours have been round – we found a neighbour in the garden holding a burning torch, which they tried to explain away as a power cut, but they had a look on their face. You remember the neighbour? That fucking neighbour is now in my garden holding a flaming torch.

Earlier today, I had a friend round (don’t ask me who) and he found one in the space between the stairs and the ceiling – floating there in the aperture. You told me that you were not able to pass on your contamination. No dilly way! You said. Well guess what: You dilly did! You have contaminated my home. They are everywhere.

So please, do not tell me where you are or that you’re happy. If you retain any fondness for me. If you have any scrap of decency left, please send me advice by notification here. Specifically, when they come out at night, and they gather on your back, and vibrate, how long does the unconsciousness last? You used to be gone for days, but I cannot be gone for days. The cat will die if I am gone for days. The dog will die.

You have ruined my life with this infestation.

And – not just that, but now I cannot remember a time when there was no halopeter in my life. They are everywhere, with their smooth ginger hair, undulating on my back.  You know, they are in the caravan when I went on holiday as a child. In North Wales. In my dungarees ffs. They are there in my last weeks with Dad. They are in my bedroom when Chris came home with me for the first time. My fucking cereal forever memories are shimmering with your infection.  

I wish I had never met you. I wish I had never even entered the pet shop that day, and found you crying.