My hands started to sweat and my heart picked up a tempo where the beat could be heard from a mile. With shaky fingers, I typed a reply but quickly erased it.
What to do? How easily he asked if he can come into my room... I am sure he has been here before without my permission but to let him into my room at this hour of time...
I looked around the room. It didn't have any other furniture other than the bed. So where will he sit? And is he asking me permission to sleep in this room or just to stay with me till I fall asleep?
Without adieu my fingers typed a response on their own.
Yes.
Then I counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five... how long does it take actually to walk from the adjacent room to this room? Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. What's taking him so long? Fifty-eight. Fifty-nin
