I sleep in half a bed, with one eye open. I fill half a bowl with cereal, ceramic split cleanly down the middle. The milk spills all over the table, and the cornflakes form soggy yellow islands across the polkadot surface cloth. 

With only half-an-engine, my half-a-car stalls at a junction and strands me halfway to work. 

But it’s okay, because you’re next to me and the traffic light is stuck on orange.