Put down these words. I think this in my head, but what I put down is a book filled with words. Something old with a green cover. Something that I cannot concentrate on any longer, though it made me laugh a short while ago. I'm on page 164. I repeat that to myself a few times, so I won't forget and then I lean back more fully against your pillows, which are propped up behind my back. I close my eyes to think about you instead. That is all I really want to do right now. Think of you. Though I know that you will be here soon and I will really have to pay attention to you. Not that I mind that either, I want to, but usually my thoughts are more compelling. I think I know everything and nothing about you. I do not mind waiting for you here. In this strange place of yours. Your home. Three floors up from the ground, just one large room with big windows facing inward, instead of to the outside. The indoor windows let in the false daylight, dimmed to a dark green for the night. I wo...