Camile
I expect Phil to be a gentleman. He doesn"t disappoint. He opens the door for me when we get to his car. There"s a lot of traffic in the city. He tells me about his plans for the weekend.
"I"m going to the movies with a friend," he says. "Then I have tickets to the symphony."
I don"t say anything.
"I"ve wanted to go for a long time. Have any interest in attending with me?"
I stare out the window. “I can’t. I got a puppy, and he’s a lot of work.”
“I love dogs,” he says, clearing his throat. When I don’t respond he turns on the radio. It"s playing soft jazz, which I hate. It’s worse than going to the symphony, because I’m trapped in this car.
When we arrive at his place, I"m taken aback by how homey it looks. He lives in a small townhouse on a quiet street just outside the city
