My plan is to get up and get the fuck out of here. But here is the thing with plans—they can change on a dime. Trust me, I should know. My plan was to come here and find out when she was leaving. It was not to kiss her, it was not to fuck her, and it was not to feel what I was feeling. It is time to make another plan, and this time stick to it. That is the last thing I think before my eyes close, and then it takes so much to open them, so I just rest them. For just a second, I think to myself, and that is the last thought I have.
