The kitchen was bathed in soft pinkish hues of the morning sun streaming through the east-facing window. 5:30 AM, same as always. I stood at the sink, glass of water in hand, watching the robin in the silver birch tree hop frantically from branch to branch. Always busy, that robin. Always doing robin things.

I flicked on the kettle and prepared the cafetière for my coffee.

The door creaking slightly as I opened the cupboard to fetch a bowl. I remembered being in MFI all those years ago, looking at the kitchen displays. We'd had our whole life in front of us then. She'd planned out this kitchen carefully, insisting on space for a table so we could all have breakfast together. She'd had her heart set on these fake marble worktops, saying how good they would look. They still look good now, I suppose, but the shine seems to have faded to me. Dave always calls MFI 'MI5,' which never gets less annoying. The marble effect laminate countertop felt cool under my hands as I reached for the cornflakes. Thursday meant cornflakes. Always cornflakes on Thursdays.

The radio crackled to life as I poured the cereal into his bowl, the familiar, overly enthusiastic voice of DJ Gary Raff filling the kitchen.

"Good morning, good morning, good morning Essex! It's DJ G-Raff coming to you live from the heart of... well, somewhere in Essex, and what a gorgeous May morning it is! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I've got some absolutely riveting news for you this morning!"

As I poured the semi-skimmed milk to my bowl, the sound of liquid hitting cereal oddly satisfying in the quiet kitchen. Upstairs, I could hear the shower running. Dave was up.

"Oi, oi producer Kate it’s not time for a jingle now," Gary continued, his voice dripping with the kind of forced excitement that made you want to change stations, "we've got some rather exciting news from the world of astronomy! Scientists are telling us that in around fifty days, we're going to be treated to an absolutely spectacular display in the night sky!"

I poured the coffee into my mug, adding just a splash of milk. The shower upstairs had stopped. Dave would be getting dressed now, probably wrestling with that ridiculous zebra onesie he always wore in the mornings.

"A comet, and I'm told it's a big one, is going to pass by our little blue planet, giving us all a light show that'll make Bonfire Night and New Years look like a damp squibs! The boffins at the Royal Observatory say it'll be clearly visible and everything, no need for telescopes. Imagine that! Nature's own fireworks display, absolutely free of charge!  Just hope for a clear night."

"Anyway, it’s our super duper compo time! And we've got Sharon from Crays Hill on the line. Sharon, love, you're through to G-Raff!"

"Oh my Gosh, Gary, I can't believe I got through! I'm such a huge fan!"

"Well aren't you lovely! Always great to talk to a big DJ G-Raff fan."

"I meant of the film Gary-" Sharon added before being interrupted

"Now Sharon, you know the rules, answer correctly and you win today's faaan-tasss-tic prize. Ready?"

"Yes, yes, I'm ready!"

"Brilliant! Here we go then: How many Oscars did the film Titanic win?"

There was a pause. You could practically hear Sharon's brain whirring.

"Eleven! It won eleven Oscars!"

"Correct! Sharon, you've just won yourself a signed, framed copy of the original Titanic movie poster signed by Jason Barry who played Tommy Ryan in Titanic! How's that for a top notch prize huh?"

"Oh my God, Gary, I just…  I can’t believe it! Could you, could you play 'My Heart Will Go On' for me? Please. Wait, hang on who signed it!?"

"Of course, love! Celine Dion, coming right up for Sharon from Crays Hill, the biggest DJ G-Raff and Titanic fan in Essex!"

Clicking the radio off just as the opening notes of the song began to play. Perfect timing, I’ve always hated that song. I moved my breakfast from the worktop to the small table, settling into my usual chair just as the footsteps started down the stairs.

Dave appeared in the doorway, resplendent in his zebra onesie, somehow already holding a glass of orange squash. Where he got the drinks from every day remained one of life's great mysteries, along with why he insisted on wearing that onesie every single morning.

Sitting down across from me, Dave took a sip of his of squash, for a moment he looked at his drink and nodded approvingly.  Suddenly his eyes flicked up and with that look, the one that meant he'd been thinking again.

"You know," Dave said, settling back in his chair, "I like to think all truck and van drivers are in an unwritten territory war over all the motorways, A and B roads, using their piss as a sign of their ownership."

I stopped mid-chew, cornflakes suddenly feeling like cardboard in my mouth.

"What the fuck Dave?!"