Abby
Five minutes feels like an eternity. I pace Karl’s kitchen as he quickly gets ready in the other room, not even taking a moment to take in the fact that this is Karl’s apartment, and I’m here for the first time ever. The whole place is awash with his scent in an almost intoxicating way, the leather chairs and brick walls a perfect representation of his taste: dark, understated, and professional.
Finally, after what feels like hours, Karl finally steps out of his room. Surprisingly, despite the time crunch, he looks… good.
His hair is combed neatly, and he’s wearing a professional button-down shirt with black slacks and a pair of loafers. Somehow, even in his haste, he always manages to look put-together. I wish I could say the same; I feel like a trainwreck right now.
