I love the feel of warm porcelain against my face. It's like...I don't know. Warm. Safe. Hard. I lick the bottom of the coffee mug that's pressed against my cheek.

Warm.

Hard.

I haven't seen Heero in a month. I have no clue as to where he could of gone. Even though I have the skills and means, I haven't tracked him. Maybe he wants me to. So that's why I won't.

Grease stains are a bitch to get out. I should know, I'm a mechanic now. Hilde says it suits me; "black clothes hide grease." But I still try to wash them out. I smeared it all over my mug.

Heero liked it when I came home greasy.

But now I have resolved to refer to the apartment as mine. If he deserts it, he doesn't pay the rent, so it's all mine now. Money's never tight because I take back what should have been rightfully mine. Money was never a problem because we rarely used it. I rarely use it.

Maybe the saying's right, you should never mix work and pleasure. Maybe that's why I'm thinking about it so much while I'm working. I try not to think this much. This thinking...

If I leave now, I can make it to the diner and be home by 7. But I better stop home and shower first.