During "The Dumpling Paradox"
He lay on his back in bed, willing Penny to come into his room. Thinking about it hard, with intensity.
Come in, come in, come in, come in, come in.
His second hypoallergenic pillow on his bed was fluffed. His boxers were clean. Well they were always clean. His mouth was Scoped.
Just in case.
Come in, come in, come in.
His glasses were kept on. He never slept with his glasses on, but tonight, he did, just in case.
Come in!
He sat up, propped against the headboard. His outstretched legs were crossed. His stomach tense.
She was fifteen, maybe twenty steps away. Couldn't she just come in? Even just for one night? He'd take just one night. He wasn't picky.
He alternated flexing his legs to pass the time. The clock clicked later and later.
And then, shuffling. Footsteps! Coming closer, closer, closer. Stopping.
The sound of the bathroom door closing, toilet flushing, water running.
His heart beat wildly. His face flushed.
She just had to pee.
.
She towelled her hands, turned off the light, and padded softly down the hallway. The lamp in Leonard's room was on. The light was soft and yellow, his door was cracked open.
She baited her breath and saw a sliver of him, sitting up in bed. His glasses were on, his t-shirt snug and white. His eyes were drawn down to his clasped hands, picking at a hangnail. The other side of his made was perfectly made, the pillow poised and downy-looking.
She wouldn't stick to the leather like she would in the living room.
His slivered self just sat there, fidgety, looking sad, hopeful, anxious.
.
Come in, come in, come in.
There were footsteps to the bathroom, footsteps from the bathroom, then they stopped.
He looked to the spot beside him, hoping she'd materialize. She hadn't. He took off his glasses¸ ran his hands through his hair, pulled his neighbouring pillow close to his body and turned off the lights.
.
Should she go in?
She froze.
He pulled the pillow into his body and turned off the lights before she could decide.
No, it was too soon still.
-fin.