. . . it's official.

He's on his way down.

I am . . . so nervous I've been dry-heaving for the past hour or so, and, just. Yes.

He hasn't eaten, won't have slept, and probably won't have showered, but in a few short hours he'll be here. I'll be able to touch him again—something that seems minor, till you realize that I don't tend to touch people unless I'm really comfortable with them (. . . it's a boundary issue), and so I basically haven't hugged anyone or whatnot since he was down last.

Nor kissed anyone, really, aside from one very stupid mistake.

I . . . yes.

God, I've missed him. I just hope everything works out OK.