I’m not a fucking idiot. Blustering to myself, keeping up appearances in my head is pointless once you’ve figured out that’s what you’re doing. I can admit to myself that I don’t want it to be nothing to her. Is it nothing to me? I honestly don’t know. Standing in a freezing owlery in the middle of the night staring at my feet like an abashed child would suggest otherwise. I make myself look her into the eyes.