My stomach is full of anxiously fluttering butterflies when I knock on Ronan’s door early Saturday morning. After Wednesday’s birthday fiasco, I’d declined to go out with my friends yesterday, almost killing them with shock. “But you never say no, Iggy.” Instead, I was bored to sleep early by a brainless movie on Netflix, and woke up before six A.M., well rested and unable to go back to sleep. I don’t even wake up before six on a work day. What the f**k is wrong with me?
It was far too early for breakfast, so after gulping down a glass of OJ, I went for a walk. Turns out my usual circuit was more or less empty at that hour—though I’m fairly certain I spotted a young lady doing the walk of shame—and I enjoyed the solitude. The air was brisk, the birds chirped happily, and the dewdrops stil
