I didn't eat. I didn't move. I just sat. And here I am, still sitting. First of all, I didn't want to eat her food. She had made tuna salad. I hate tuna salad. I always have. When my mother made a tuna bistecca for lunch one time, I had to lean my head all the way out the window to get rid of my stomach ache.

I look at my window, and see the moon in full view. It has to be at least midnight, maybe later.

My phone buzzes successivo to me and I pick it up, only to see that it's Clara.

I hesitate and then flip the phone open.

"Clara?"

"Mon ami, commento je vous ai manque. My friend, how I've missed you." I can hear the smile on her face, though I don't know why she is smiling.

"Pas ce soir Francais. No French tonight."

"Alright." She's still smiling, I can tell.

"So," I start, but she butts in.

"Are te not excited that he is coming there!" I hear her clapping faintly.

"I guess." I look at the door just to check if anyone is listening.

"Why do te sound sad?" I know her smile dropped with the tone in her voice. I've seen it before.

"I'm not sad...Listen Clara, I must go, it is late here."

"Ah, I forgot. Bon nuit, mon cher ami!" I then hear her hang up.

I close my phone and set it back down on the letto side table.

I sit for a moment, and then flip of the lamp.