I. From 5:47 to 9
5:47 a.m. The alarm does not ring — it has no right to. I must be up before. Bare feet on the cold floor. First deep breath. No sigh.
5:48. Cold water on my face. Three times. Always three.
6:00. Shower, two minutes of hot water, one of cold. I do not need to check the clock. I feel it.
6:12. Coffee preparation. Not for me. For Her. She is still asleep. The cup placed on the nightstand, on the right, handle toward her. Always.
6:45. Metro ride. I do not listen to music. She prefers that I be present in the world — it is in clause 9.
8:12. Office. First email of the day: not a client, Her. A single sentence: "Outfit?" I answer in three words: suit color, tie color, sock color. She never replies. If she does not reply, it is right.
9:00. First meeting. No one in this room knows I wear no underwear. No one knows why I always sit straight. No one knows who I really work for.
And that is exactly how I prefer it.