I finally ask Feral out and she says yes. I spend a decent time planning on her coming over. We makeout hot and heavy for a while, getting familiar with each other. We take a break so I can introduce her to my parents (we may be at their house, I may live there). I poke my mom, who looks exactly like my pet naked dumbo rat Nüdl, and ask if they’re starting to feel sleepy for bedtime. Someone asks how long its been since the makeouts, and I check my watch — which is the same as the actual Galaxy Fit I’ve started wearing daily — and to my surprise it’s transcribed our conversation. Perhaps out of anxiety or eagerness to appear cool, I start telling the story of how I found it in a backpack abandoned on the side of the road on Twin Peaks, how the only identifiable information in it was a doctor’s note, how I wrote the doctor and only heard back several months later and the owner told me to keep it… all this is true, in fact. At some point I ignore someone interrupting me by repeating my own name, which I now sort of wish I hadn’t. I don’t even know if Feral will sleep over, or if we’ll sleep together, but it’s a mature and grounded headspace where we all accept things as they are.