I was very nervous the rest of the week.
But they were the good kind of nerves. Pleasant nerves. Nerves of anticipation and anxiety, of joy. I used that week to catch up a little on personal things I hadn’t paid much attention to in recent years. Like a more thorough waxing than usual and buying some essential bathroom accessories I hadn’t needed before. I felt like a fifteen-year-old, with her head occupied only by her first boyfriend; and sometimes I laughed thinking about how much I was committing to the situation. As if I had never been with someone before.
Well, I had never been with someone like him. How could I not be nervous?
At times, instead of concentrating on writing, I would catch myself wondering what peculiarities I might encounter. I mean, obviously a part of Alexander w
