+TYPED OUT-

+CLOSER-

"Tell me about yourself, Kenneth."

"What do you want to know? Everything is on Wiki."

Monday lifted her head to glare at him.

"What?"

"Come on, Kenneth."

"Alright, my name is Kenneth T. Mosely."

"What does T stand for?"

"Theodore."

"Oh, Lawd," Monday laughed her heart away.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, my, you're so ancient. Theodore, it dates at least back to antiquity."

"It means gift of God in Latin."

"Excuse me, Mr. Gift from God. Damn, you were pompous from the start."

"You're such a brat," Kenneth said and tickled her.

"Stop, Kenneth, stop," Monday said as she wobbled in his arms until the man toppled her over and overshadowed her.

"Excuse me, Theoㅡdore, sorry, I can't," Monday said and burst into another laughing fit.

"Hey, you asked for it, now listen," Kenneth spoke of his childhood in Ireland. His studies and friends. Monday learned Lisbeth was one of his best friends, Morgen's wife. His other bosom buddy was Greta. The man spoke about his life in New York and his odd hobby of collecting snow globes.

"So you have a snow globe collection like people who collect garden gnomes," Monday asked.

"I really can't have a serious conversation with you, can I?"

"Oh, this is serious to you. Woo hoo, Kenneth, you're making me tear up."

Kenneth smiled; the woman's laughter was contagious. They talked until 3 AM; Monday fell asleep in his arms. Her naked chest heaved upon his while he caressed her back. The man let himself drift and closed his eyes, knowing he would sleep well.

This time it was Monday who woke up first and watched him. No one could suspect how Kenneth was in private. The man was light years away from the alien guru he portrayed. Having this extra information about him gave Monday the impression of being someone special in his entourage.

Monday gestured to get out of bed only to feel Kenneth grasp her arm, "where are you going?"

"Since when are you awake?"

"Since you began to look at me as though I was the world's eighth wonder."

Monday took a pillow and bashed him with it.

"Aww, wait till I catch you," the man said, sitting up. Something told Monday to run, but she waited when suddenly he leaped. Monday ran, and so began a chase where the woman used the furniture as shields and climbed over the bed before hurrying to the bathroom.

Kenneth laughed; the chase was almost worth his morning jog. He slumped down on the sofa and grabbed his phone. It was a good thing he had put it on mute, thought Kenneth when he saw no less than nine calls from Meredith and a voice message.

He listened:

"Hi, Kenneth. It's me; Rob told me you had a migraine. I got you some aspirin and paracetamol, but the hotel won't let me come up to your room. Please call the lobby to tell them to let me in."

They had to have a serious talk. Meredith's behavior triggered his anxiety. It brought back memories of a dark era when crazy fans and delusional women plagued him.

"Come on, Kenneth, it's Meredith. It's just Meredith, " he muttered.

"Kenneth?"

The man didn't react until Monday touched his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

Kenneth looked up and placed his hand on hers, "I'm fine. Did you shower already?"

"Yes, it's almost ten. We're going to be late."

Kenneth hurried to get ready and found himself waiting for Monday, who put on her lipstick.

"Are you going to stand there and watch?"

Kenneth grinned, "you can't believe the turn on it is to see you put that on."

Monday shook her head in disapproval and proceeded. She contoured her lips with a crayon before adding her YSL slim leather Pink Oxymore lipstick. She finished by puckering her lips.

"It's gorgeous," Kenneth said as he gave her a back hug where he kissed the nip of her neck. His beard tickled, and the sensation of his kisses focused on the most hollow part made Monday rub her legs together.

"Kenneth, stop it. We'll be late."

"Let's be."

"People will know."

"Because you think I care."

Kenneth had pondered and tortured himself enough about the eventuality of being with the tuna sandwich writer. He had no time to reflect on what other people could think about their relationship.

Monday didn't need more than one sentence Kenneth pronounced. She wasn't asking for the moon. Monday just desired to know if the man considered her in some way other than as a sex outlet.

Some would say she placed the bar low nowadays that minimal requirement became like a leprechaun's pot of gold. One found themselves chasing rainbows without ever attaining it. Kenneth's words appeased and comforted the woman just like his strong embrace.

Attachment.

The noun was back, but this time the couple invited it to sit in the space they reserved for it between them.