We’re due back at the therapist’s office in four days, and I’ll admit I’ve stalked you a little, I have. You’re back in that funky apartment, well, the same complex anyway, different unit. I watch you, and I can’t help but get the sense you’re annoyed that you’re stuck here for the duration of the judge’s terms, but you carry on with business like it’s nothing. You impress me, just as you always have, and it’s always been the side of you I see when you think I’m not looking that I like best.
I follow you to the outskirts of town to a plot of land, which holds nothing but an old barn. I can’t figure it out at first. It’s dilapidated, falling down. But you go there often, sometimes in the dark and sometimes in the light of day, and you’ve always excelled at keeping me on my toes. It doesn’t
