Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-One
4:30 a.m. Rain.
5:19 a.m. I already know what her message says. I lay in bed a little longer, listening to the rain taptaptap on the roof.
A mixture of release and more stress.
I owe her a phone call, but I can’t seem to squeeze in the minutes.
Just me, myself, and I.
Is it weird that I want to study my next chapter of statistics?
Every minute after 3 p.m. here is torture.
She says she has an eye twitch. I was there not too long ago.
What am I thinking about? Everything.
Realness.
