The next day I sat on my knees in the spare bedroom in my house going through tons of books, just as I told Norman I would.
I've found several that he would like, but I try to be cautious and remember he has a very vulnerable mind.
Just as I toss another book into the pile, Richard steps into the room. "Hey Jo, what are you doing?" He asks.
"Just going through my books." I mumble, thumbing through one before tossing it into Normans pile.
"Why, exactly?" He sits on the bed above me.
"I told my patient, Norman, that I would." I shrug.
He lets out an exasperated laugh as he places a hand on my shoulder. "You haven't fallen in love with a nut already, have you?"
I roll my eyes, shrugging his hand off. "Don't call him that. And no, he just doesn't have any books." I say. He chuckles, standing up and walking to the door.
"Well, as long as you don't go leaving me for a maniac. Come on, I'm hungry." He says.
I sigh, throwing the book I'm holding into a box. I stand up, wiping my hands on my pants and following him down.
The whole time I'm cooking I keep making mistakes.
I let water boil over, burnt some vegetables, and almost cut my finger. I don't know what's wrong with me. Lately it just feels as though I can't get Norman out of my head. Normally I'd love to be spending a day home with my fiancé, but today I can't help but think about how much I miss Norman. I shake my head, ridding the thoughts.