Its been 6 hours since I sent my message. Seen, but no reply. Something must have happened. Maybe he’s hurt? It’s not unlikely that he tripped and hit his head. His apartment is a mess after all. I push my chair out, arising  into a panicked loop as I walk a figure eight around my room. My feet kick against bottles and cans, my foot swings and an old pizza box is sent flying, launching stale crusts across the room. Maybe he’s ignoring me? No, of course not. He’s not like that. I grab the keys to my car from their spot next to my laptop and head for the door, my foot slipping as I grab the handle. The…

Its been eight minutes since I sent my message. Seen, but no reply. Something must have happened. Maybe he’s hurt? It’s not unlikely that he tripped and hit his head. His apartment is a mess after all. Maybe he’s simply ignoring me? No, of course not. He’s not like that. I grab the keys to my car which I conveniently placed next to my computer, and head out the door. I slice through the night air in my 96′ Corolla and wait impatiently at traffic lights as I rush through the suburbia. Maybe he’s simply not home? Out with his friends? Saw the message, but ignored it? No. Maybe he wants me to want him? Oh, I want him… I…