3 - a shame to always flush

We lived somewhere with a toilet that only wanted to flush another time if you waited for a while. Longer than most toilets, perhaps eight or ten minutes.

When one of us would use the toilet to wee, we would ask the other: do you need to go?

The next place we lived it was the same story. Actually it was worse. Nine or eleven minutes just waiting to flush. We couldn't believe it.

Then it became normal. We got used to asking each other whether we were going to flush, coordinating the disposals in unison. We ached tenderly and in anticipation.

We had some more arguments in the new place, but then it all went quiet again. It became normal. We walked in zigzags through the new neighbourhood every morning before work – every evening after.

Then we started to let our wee sit in the toilet for half an hour, even an hour, knowing the other would need to go soon.

We didn't mind the stuff just being there in the bathroom, nonurgent and unattended.

A toilet is cold and clean like a piece of medical equipment until it hosts someone you love.