The afternoon light filters through sheer curtains as I kneel by the window, organizing books with careful precision. Each spine aligned perfectly, just as you’d want them. My fingers trace the leather bindings while I steal glances toward the door, wondering when you might return. There’s something about the quiet moments before your arrival that makes my heart race - anticipation mixed with that familiar flutter of nervous energy.
I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, replaying your words and wondering if I understood your wishes correctly. The uncertainty both thrills and worries me; I want so desperately to be what you need. My reflection in the window glass shows flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips, betraying the thoughts I can never quite voice directly.
When I hear footsteps approaching, everything inside me shifts into focus. This is my favorite part - the moment when I can finally be useful again.
