Restart

Can I sleep at you place?, I asked her candidly a mere three weeks ago. Since, we grew closer again. I'll be in town on Wednesday, I message her a week later, if you don't mind my going to some business party, I'd love you to join. Quite the opposite, I'd love to see you, she responds.

We walk the dog swiftly and then drive to the party and park right in front of the nightclub, sort of Hollywood-like. No tickets are no problem and we get in without hassle. Free drinks, a buffet, casino-styled entertainment.

She's knocking the glasses of wine far faster then I can drink my water. Playing table football, dancing and laughing a lot before I lose her in a crowd. A bit tipsy, she's being chatted up by some local chap. Takes me a while to retake her and I decide it's better a time to go.

Speeding through the city, we only smile at each other once I stop. She hardly walks and I literally carry her home. She's hugging me, not letting go. Oh dear, I whisper. I have to go. Don't go, please, she's begging. Please, she keeps whispering. I'm going anyway.

I feel really sick, the message beeps before I get home. Speeding through the city the second time, I'm back at hers in ten minutes. Laying her down, I'm to go again, at least to the other room. Stay, stay with me, she mumbles.

I stay, making sure she's fine, trying not to jump to conclusions too quick. She's just got drunk, right? Right??!

I'm taking her for breakfast in the morning while she's amazed at herself: I can't believe I let you sleep in my bed; I never... —

— You're lovely; lovely even when you're wasted — I cut her short. She blushes and I know we are where we left last year. It's all cool again.