The next day, I went back to my mind-numbing job where I spent another eight hours staring at the walls hoping someone would come in to entertain me...or possibly shoot me. When that hadn't happened by ten, I started messaging my friends, none of which responded because they all had jobs that required them to actually do something. I surfed f*******: but quickly grew tired of that as well. A girl can only read so many posts about politics and how great other peoples' lives are before wanting to clobber herself in the head with the heel of her shoe. I tried never to bother Collier at work. I still wasn't sure I fully understood what he did, but I knew he ran a huge company that required his attention, and if I sent him a text, he would stop to respond.
Me: Are you busy?
Collier: Never too
