[Two can play at this game of not knowing what to say, apparently. He types out a response and stares at it for a minute—it seems too formal, lacking the intimacy and honesty the situation seems to call for. But ultimately, it’s what he has for now. He can work on carving his way back to authenticity little by little as they go. He hits send.]
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You could have told me.
Though, I suppose it’s no matter. I treated you exactly as I would have, had I known.
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I always wanted you, you know.
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Where do you suppose we begin?
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How about a date?
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It would be my pleasure.
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