She had been tracing patterns into the rug with her toe, circles and squares and triangles, over and over again. The myriad threads of purple and white and salmon, interspersed with background grey, held her attention like nothing else would. She needed to hold herself in, swallow the nervousness she felt. He promised he would call her, and she didn't want to sound like a schoolgirl. Frantic energy was bubbling inside, and thus the tracing, to calm herself. With steady eye she stared down the phone. "I can do this. I'll be calm and be myself, and he'll never know I was just sitting here all night."