June 22, 2007
It is one o’clock in the morning on Saturday, moving day. The buzz of my cell phone wakes me from a deep sleep. I know exactly who it is. There is only one person on earth who would text me at this time of night. Dracula. “Hi,” he wrote. “Hi,” I respond. As I hold the phone in my hand to write another message proclaiming the ungodly hour, the phone rings in my hand. “Come over,” he begs. Knowing I have a long day ahead, I relent. I just can’t resist his pleas for my company. Why the fuck not?