Don’t imagine Martin visiting Jon in hospital and gently brushing Jon’s hair whilst he talks about work, and what’s going on in his personal life. Don’t imagine Martin replacing wilted flowers, hanging fairy lights, and setting down two cups of tea (one of which he knows will remain untouched).

Don’t think about Martin befriending all the nurses at the hospital and telling them all about Jon and what he’s like when he’s up and about. Don’t imagine him doing an impression of Jon’s idea of a hilarious joke (the joke never made anyone laugh, but the impression did).

Don’t imagine Martin politely and subtly making sure Jon’s being well looked after, and getting the best course of treatment. Don’t think about the tenderness that comes from unconditional care and love with no expectations.

But most importantly, don’t think about Jon’s hair growing tangled, the nurses seeing less and less of Martin. Don’t imagine how dull the hospital room became without Martin’s thoughtful input. Don’t think about the old cup of tea still sitting on the bedside table (it’s behind a ‘get well soon’ card, only Martin would’ve noticed it).

It was Martin who succumbed to the lonely, but in a way it managed to take Jon too.