He's watching you dress up, and then brush your hair. It feels weird. When he's in your bed, it feels so real; every touch and kiss feels like you mean it. He wonders how many men feel the same way between those sheets. He shakes his head, trying to push away those thoughts.

After buttoning up his shirt he puts the little envelope on the top of the drawer. There's more in it than it's supposed to be, but he knows that your fridge doesn't work properly. There's no one who he could spend his money on anyway.