11 hours, he had now decided. That was the exact amount of time he would give it. After this amount was certain they both would know if it was worth continuing on. Any earlier and he thought he just wouldn’t be able to tell. But why 11? Asked Janine. His Min’s friend who always knew how to talk with him? Ever since he was little, ever sinceche was diagnosed. Why not 23 or 47 or 6? He did the math in his head: one fist coffee 1 hour, lunch 1.5 hours, dinner 2.5 hours, random weekend activity 3 hours, night in 3 hours. Because it’s 11, he said. Okay, said Janine 11 it is! And that was that. The way mist conversations ended. He excused himself from the room. Slowly climbed the stairs to his room. From his closet he pulled out a black long sleeved collared shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. He best socks, rainbow striped and a belt. He laid them on the bed, more positive than ever that this is what the ladies will like. I mean who doesn’t like a sharp dressed man. All he had to do now was get a date. Something he had never done in 31?years. Like something akin to a sadness that has never left, he knows and has known for a long time that this is what he wants, there are moments when he can imagine it, sitting next to her, talking about the New York Yankees, his favorite baseball team, birds he likes particular the blue jays and the cardinals, and he could tell her about the Wolverine marvel movie he just saw. He thought sure she would smell sweet like cherry blossoms or farmers honey. She would have a nice smile and pleasing laugh and maybe if he was lucky they might hold hands as they walked by the water after there meal. He put the clothes back in his closet and shut the door. Hoping that his 11 hours would arrive soon.