Red’s always been my favourite colour. As a kid, and a teenager, it was constantly my choice. But never before has it had this effect on my emotions, on my state of mind. In recent months my senses have become so totally attuned to that blip of brightness, that I watch for it, wait for it, even hallucinate it sometimes. It draws my eye, like a luminescent ruby, no matter what I’m concentrating on — a book, the screen, driving. The glow of a cigarette end makes me double take, my heart skipping, only to look away in disappointment. I wake in the darkness and look for it, out beyond my pillow, hoping. Waiting. Too often, the red light just signals more sadness, continued despair, but still I look for it, long for it, hoping that this time it will flash out in the gloom and she’ll tell me she still misses me.