What's going on? What are you even doing here? Right, Antwan's rubbing your feet while your mind falls into a half-slumber. He sits on the bed, the room illuminated only by the full moon, whose rays of light break through the transparent tulle, and by the candle that Antwan's girl so fond of.

“Don’t you asleep? You flinched a bit…” he mutters looking at you over his shoulder and light hits his tender features.

Apparently rubbing and massaging has displaced sleep. Flinching. It happens a lot when you're in his place. On his bed. As if waiting to be caught. It’s sometimes unbearably disturbing, uncomfortable, but Antwan looks as if his girlfriend can't come back at any moment. As if he's even looking forward to it… to finally be done with her.