Book Boy didn't come back to the bar that day, or any day that week. He didn't knock on my kitchen door or linger on his balcony as he had before. In fact, it was as if he'd vanished entirely. In his absence, life went back to normal.

I worked my shifts at the bar. I talked to Kelly, Emma and Callum about the same superficial things we had talked about before. I did my weekly shop at the supermarket. I watched ridiculous romantic comedies or read one of the many books on my shelves. I drank too much wine and failed to get enough sleep. I did it all like I used to, except this time I had the voice in the back of my head, asking me where Book Boy was. It wasn't a longing voice, but it was a curious one.

Even Nightmare seemed to wonder where'd he'd gone. She'd become a full-time resident at my flat, but I'd caught her lingering outside the flat upstairs. She'd stretch herself out on the balcony in front of their back door, like she was waiting for Book Boy to come pay her attention. Over the weeks we'd talked, she'd become  smitten by him. The jealous voice in my head wondered if he secretly hid cat treats in his pockets.

His sudden disappearance filled my head as I walked up my street on my way home.

I felt a flash of dread when I saw the police car parked outside. As my concern increased, so did my speed. Soon my footsteps were as frantic as my thoughts. Like most people, the sight of the police car sent my head into a flurry of questions and theories. Each one rattling around in my head.

They all stopped when I saw my front door wide open.

As I walked through, I could hear voices coming from the living room. Nightmare joined my side as she came trotting out of my bedroom. I cast a glance from where she'd come from and saw my belongings strewn across the floor.

Realisation started to sink in.

By the time I saw the officer making notes next to the broken window, I felt the anger fizzing in the pit of my stomach. My hand clenched, and my fingernails bit into my palm, leaving crescent shaped indents in the soft milky skin.

"What happened?" I snapped as I looked at the mess surrounding me. The officer turned with an apologetic smile.

"We had a report of a suspected burglary. Are you the owner of the property?"

"I rent, but yeah," I huffed as I pulled my hair free from the hairband and ran my hands through it.

The officer's face twisted in sympathy as she cast a quick look at the broken window. It would cost a small fortune to fix, but then again, any chance of getting my security deposit back vanished years ago.

"I'm PC Johnson, I'll be the lead officer dealing with this," she started, friendly but professional, before checking her notes. "There doesn't seem to be too much damage, but if you could take a look around and see if there's anything missing?"

I glanced around at her instructions, but despite the chaos around me, it didn't look like anything important had been taken. If anything, it looked like whoever had broken in had wasted their time rifling through throwaway possessions. Trashy magazines were scattered across the floor, and cushions were out of place, but my bookshelves were relatively untouched.

"I don't really have anything worth taking," I offered as I scanned. I thought I saw PC Johnson flinch in pity, but I ignored it. It had been a long day and the last thing I needed was to kick off at a cop for showing some sympathy. Still, the itch rippled under the surface.

"Check anyway. It will help track whoever did this if we know what to look for."

I nodded and started the task of trying to decipher what had gone missing. It seemed insurmountable at first. Everywhere I looked there was another opened drawer or emptied box. It all seemed so aimless, like the person had just come to make a mess rather than look for anything of value.

Slowly, the feeling of violation built in the pit of my stomach and with it came a rage I'd never been very good at controlling. This place had never meant much to me, but it had been my place. The one part of this earth where I could lock myself away and drop all pretence. The idea that someone had taken that from me was infuriating.

By the time I circled back to PC Johnson, I could count on one hand how many items I'd picked out as being missing, and none of them were worth the effort of breaking the window to get to. I would have felt bad for whoever had done the deed, if the thought of their hands on my things didn't make me want to ring their neck.

"It doesn't look like they've really taken much. Maybe a couple of pieces of jewelry. Nothing fancy, just some plain silver bangles and a pair of earrings. There's also fifty quid missing from my bedside table."

"Does the jewelry have sentimental value?" Johnson asked as she made a note of the missing items.

"No, not really. I don't even know if it's real silver." I shrugged, thinking of the items they'd pinched. Another item sprung to mind, and as I looked at the cluttered side table I groaned.

"My laptop's missing as well," I grumbled. My head slumped against my hand, my fingers trying to iron out the stress lines that had appeared on my forehead.

"Did you have a lot saved on it? Photos and things?" PC Johnson asked with another dose of sympathy.

"No," I whined as the realisation of having to buy a replacement settled in. "I'm going to have to reinstall everything," I complained. Granted I had been meaning to buy a new laptop at some point in the coming future. The fan had all but died, which meant I had to keep my internet browsing sessions to a bare minimum before it would overheat and die. Then there was the fact it had been riddled with viruses from years of downloading music and films illegally. If anything, the burglars did me a favour. At least now I didn't have to deal with the guilt of binning something that technically still worked. Albeit badly.

"Did anyone else get hit?" I asked as I thought of Gina upstairs. She didn't get out much, and I didn't like the thought of someone breaking in while she was there.

"No, but there were a few others on the street. All ground floor flats," PC Johnson said casually.

"Isn't that weird?"

"Not around here." She sighed, almost bored. "We tend to get more opportunist robberies. Quick dash and grabs. The back lane makes it easy for them to get in and out."

This didn't surprise me. I'd always known this area was less than desirable, but I also thought there was a degree of community spirit. There were plenty around here who stole for a living, but they never targeted their neighbours. They usually sort out the wealthier areas like Fairfield and Ilford. The places where people were too trusting and rich for their own good.

The officer's radio sparked to life and, as she walked through to the kitchen to talk to her partner, I looked around the living room again. It was obvious how the thieves had gotten in. The large original sash window was shattered. Glass glinted on the windowsill.

As I walked towards it, my shoes crunched on the shards of glass that were scattered across the wooden floor. I peered through the broken pane.

I could see the remainder of the glass dispersed beside the window frame in the yard, glittering as the splinters caught the limited sunlight.

Sadness soaked through me as I looked at the lethal shards. It wasn't because it would be expensive to fix, although it would be, it was because it had been an original. A rare piece of history left behind when this old house was converted into the two flats. The glass had been bubbled and rippled, in a way completely unique and irreplaceable. And now it was lost. For what? Fifty quid, a broken laptop, and some cheap jewelry.

In that moment I mourned what had been. Those rare lazy days sitting on the sofa, bathed in daylight, looking out at how the glass made the yard look like it was part of some alternate dimension. All wobbly and wonky.

With a sigh I traced the warped wooden window frame.

"What happened?"

I jumped as I heard his voice behind me. Even after weeks of his presence I still couldn't get used to his silence.

"Do I have to put a collar and bell on you?" I hissed as I turned.

He was closer than I thought, so as I turned, I had to tilt my head up. My eyes dragged over his chiselled jaw, mapping the broad slope of his shoulders and thick neck. Somehow not having him around the past few days had dimmed my memory of him. Or maybe it was just his closeness now heightened my awareness.

"I didn't think you were into that kind of thing," he teased. His breath tickled my face as he spoke, that same delectable scent drifting off him.

I cleared my throat and pushed down the part of me that liked the way his eyes glittered like the glass in the daylight. That light in his eyes was oddly rare, but when it was there a deep hidden part of me relished it.

I shifted away from him, dropping my eyes to the safety of the floorboards.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Apparently, I was burgled," I replied, as I watched him pluck a stray piece of glass from the window and toss it out to land with the rest in the yard.

"You don't sound convinced." He watched me with a smile but there was a wariness in his eyes.

"I don't know if it counts as burglary, if they haven't really taken anything." I bent to pick up a few of the scattered magazines in an attempt to start tidying up some of the mess. "Where have you been anyway?"

"Missed me, Anna?" he joked as he leaned against the window frame.

I glowered, before looking at the pile of magazines in my hands and the chaos around me. With a huff I threw them down onto the coffee table. I didn't know where to start to even attempt to get the flat back to how it was when I left this morning.

"Since the police are busy here, do you want to come upstairs for coffee?" he said, a strange urgency running under his casual tone.

I looked at the grey sofa beside us. It had been a long day, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up on it, put the TV on, and just watch the day drift by into darkness. The last thing I wanted was to go upstairs and be pestered by Book Boy's constant questions. Another look at the sofa told me that wasn't really an option. Not with the police milling around and the disaster zone that was my living room.

I sighed wearily as I replied, "sure, I suppose."

PC Johnson had walked in as we talked and now looked at Book Boy over the top of her notepad, while she pretended to make notes.

I saw how her eyebrow rose slightly at my frosty reply.

"Is there anything you need me to do?" I asked, a hint of hope in my voice.

"No, not right now. We'll leave a card with some contact details in case you find anything else is missing. We'll block up the window before we leave, but I would get someone out to fix it ASAP."

"Right, thanks," I grumbled, running my hand through my hair. I glanced and saw Book Boy watching me, waiting by the doorway to the kitchen.

I took a final look at PC Johnson, a small smile on her face, before exhaling heavily and following him.

There was part of me that was curious to see who he lived with and what his flat looked like. After all our conversations, it was like another piece of the puzzle, but there was something about the spring in his step that I found unsettling.

As I trudged up the metal steps behind him, I felt adrenaline fizz in my veins. For whatever reason, rational or not, I felt uneasy entering the dimly lit flat.

He's just a man, a small internal voice said, but even if I discounted the strangeness I'd witnessed around him the past few weeks, that fact alone was still enough to make my heart hammer in my chest.