Tristan. Is. Here. In.London.
Specifically, he is outside the house where I have been living in London, with another man. A man who I've just broken up with.
"Taxi Delivery Service, how may I help you?" the phone operator utters on the other end of the line, but it fails to reach my consciousness.
Whathowwhoso many incomprehensible thoughts are racking through my mind right now. My heart is pounding like a jack hammer at the sight of him in a long black coat, jeans and scarf. The coffee eggnog is really not helping right now.
"Hi" I whisper, barely audible. My insides are flooding with nerves. A jar of butterflies has dropped inside my stomach and they are flying everywhere.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" The call operator speaks through the receiver.
I use any semblance of my wit to press the hang up button, my fingers are shaky as I keep my eyes locked on Tristan. What is he doing here?