“So, how long till our next interview?” he asks. I look down at my phone to check the date. “Nineteen days,” I say. His eyes sink down to the floor. “That seems so far away,” he whispers, and then he kneels down a bit, his forehead pressing against mine. I feel like I can’t breathe. What is happening right now? I finally let out a long sigh. He’s right. It feels like for-fucking-ever.
