He said he'd make me his famous bolognese pasta. He did. He added some lovely cocktail drinks for us with those cute little umbrella sticks in it. I shall never deny that drink I say. It was a sweet start to October. He fluffed up those big floor pillows so both of us squatted down to the level of his low-lying wooden table. The sound of police sirens and dubstep blasting in his stereo echoed all around his spacious sitting room. Our conversations are silly and random.
It's been a month already and I've never been able to last this long with somebody. And neither has he.