As the harsh sounds of a big-city morning clash with the gentle chords of a romantic mix-tape, never turned off, all in the small apartment is still – a freeze-frame; a moment captured in suspense.

On the table, two coffee cups sit unfinished, waiting to be washed and stored safely back in the cupboard. One still has the faint smudge of cheap lipstick around the rim, the other rests in a lukewarm pool of liquid – dropped by shaking hands.

Littering the floor, items of clothing lie where they were tossed without a care the previous night, tenderly ripped from hot bodies – passionate, urgent; a bread-crumb trail of intense desire.

In the bedroom, dim fingers of light desperately try to find a way through the closed curtains, to caress the pair of silhouettes lying oblivious on the bed, locked in eternal embrace; faint smiles lingering on pale faces.

Locked away and forgotten in a little-used draw, the medical results remain in a thick brown envelope, destined never to be opened.

Faint smiles linger.