He’s coming. Twenty days, and I will be stealing glances at my clock, waiting until it’s time to leave and fight my way to the airport, to pass thru security and wait at a gate, watching a plane taxi in. And, oddly, I’m not nervous. I thought I would be, I thought I would panic. Oh, I did the typical – I blinked then bounced and jumped and shrieked in surprise and excitement. But, nerves? No, none. I had them, they were there – god they’ve been with me it seems almost constantly, especially when thinking about him visiting. But once the ticket was booked, they left. Vanished. And you know, I don’t think I was nervous about him coming; I was nervous that he would not come.
A healthy tolerance for rejection merely requires a healthy tolerance for alcohol.
— Kelly Hills
Seek And Find. Maybe.
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