Forty-Seven

Kian

We spent the rest of the day decluttering my apartment. Gia took great pleasure sorting through my “crap” until everything had a purpose and a place. I had to admit, she pulled a miracle in the space of three hours. She filled several garbage bags full of junk and piled them up on the balcony. My bike parts had to go through the process of elimination; anything that was surplus to requirements had to go. I was in no position to argue. They had been sitting there gathering dust for years.

Gia's cleaning regime was like a nesting instinct that human women experience when they fall pregnant. It's in our instinct to prepare for the arrival of our offspring. Her hormones were giving me all the right signals, setting off my primal urge to rut. Tonight was operation “mark and mate Gia”, and I had spent the entire afternoon making sure everything was perfect. I ran through the list in my head one more time.

A warm bubble bath — I'm on it.

Scented candles — check.

Champagne on ice — fuck,