The next day I was able to leave. I was fine to walk but Christiano insisted on wheeling me to his room in a wheel chair. Everyone smiled at me sympathetically, I felt like an idiot. His room was as I expected it, it was strangely nuetral for him, I expected black.. I stationed myself on his sofa, the TV displaying reruns of friends. Someone would come and check on me every 20 minutes, often bringing food... or flowers... they do know who I am right? I am noone? I quietly watched the sun set over the garden, expecting Christiano to return soon. Right on time the door opened. Behind Christiano was a maid, holding a large silver tray. She placed it on the side table before leaving quietly. Christiano went straight to the bathroom, and stayed there for a while, before the shower turned on. I stood, stalking across to the food. A greasy cheesy toasty sat there oozing... oh my god. By the time he emerged from the bathroom the sandwich was long gone, and I'd relocated to the bed. A smil
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