I leaned against the copier, my back pressed to it, and stood, hands folded against my chest, anxious for an explanation. He maintained what seemed to be an everlasting silence, settling his smiling eyes provocatively on mine. My thin patience ran even thinner, and surprisingly contrary to my shy nature, I took the initiative, killing the nervous wait, “What is this all about?” “I told you,” he replied and reiterated calmly his previous reply, “It’s about time.” His provocative demeanor inflamed further my stifled rage, which I sensed now to be surging, engulfing my head and burning my face, which must’ve been glowing red. Despite my befuddlement, I was aware of how much he was enjoying this ungoverned manifestation of emotions. “And what’re you up to now?” I asked, assaying hard not to betray my feelings. But such self-control was unnecessary since the question in itself was quite revealing, and had said it all. I was hoping that he was surely going to talk about us, about me,
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