You are a workaholic. You have no patience for malfunctioning computers and loquacious women. I’m over here like a dog listening to the sound of its master. I can hear how hard you work, but I’m always afraid to look. I’m afraid to either look into your eyes and give away some secret of mine or look at you and get nothing in return. I don’t know which one is worse. A dog always wants something from its master. And yet, you surprise me every time you scare me with declarations and questions. Because they are always the right ones, the ones that get to me. I don’t know how you do it.