She Needs to be Disciplined
I glance yet again at my wrist and it’s just past nine. I’ve been anxiously pacing the floor for twenty minutes. “Damn!” I say to myself, “I told her 8:30.” I’m not angry, just extremely disappointed. I may not see her again for weeks and we have but four hours to spend…now it’s hardly even three. The time we have to spend together is few and far between as it is, I hate wasting even one minute of it. Another text arrives. On my way which room please? I tell her to hurry up, asking what her...