My plane lands early in L.A. and Andy meets me at the gate with a hug and a kiss and a warm McChicken.

In our apartment there are papers from his office spread across the bathroom floor, which is what happens when he works fifteen-hour days.

He bought the kind of bread I like even though it gives him diarrhea.

He rearranged. "Here's a place for you to put your books," he says. I drop my dirty laundry on the desk.

He over watered the plants and there's a musty smell near the CDs. "There's a musty smell," I say.

He kisses me. He thinks I'm telling him I want to have sex.