It’s not the same on the phone. He sounds different. Distant. I know I shouldn’t read too much into it, but that’s not my way. I analyze everything to death, and now I’m wondering why he didn’t call sooner, what he’s doing to pass the time while I’m gone, whether he’s out partying at night… I tell myself to stop it, but now I’m in a vicious loop, replaying every word of our brief conversation, looking for clues as to how he’s really doing, what he’s really thinking. Which of course does me absolutely no good at all. My psychic powers are notoriously bad when it comes to him, but that doesn’t even slow me down. By the time I’m at the departure terminal, I’ve played a dozen scenarios in my head, some of which involve me blowing off the record company and flying back to New York instead of to Los Angeles, others have Derek on the next flight out… I get my pass and make it through security with no problems, and see that I’m in row two – business class. It’s only a short flight, but still, I’m happy I won’t be sitting next to the toilet.
