He looked up at me.me, earlier wrote:But I motioned for Tamra to come over.
We waited.
He looked down at his hands.
Another point in his favor.
"I don't know what to say."
Okay. Not a bad place to start.
I looked at Tamra.
Not ready.
"Well, it's 6:00, so I vote late-ish for coffee unless you have homework due tomorrow. Some kind of tea?"
"Actually, yeah, I do have something due tomorrow," he said, trying to glance at the door and then stopping himself.
"What class is it?"
"137."
To sympathize with his misfortune, I groaned audibly.
(I had that one due too, but I didn't mention it.)
Hmm. I wouldn't have forever.
But I wasn't about to go for a power trip of "coffee for you and tea for us," implying he'd need to stay awhile.
I imagined a little brown-eyed boy, hat in hands.
And my stomach turned.
"Impartial, impartial," I silently reminded myself.
As if I didn't care about the outcome of this conflict.
(which is to say, whether Tamra would end up with him again or not.)
Why did I have to be the one to solve this one again?
Wait, no! You don't ask those questions: "For it is not from wisdom that you ask this."
Back in the room. Get your mind back in the room, I counseled myself.
Jump to next installment (a few posts down) HERE.