Sunday morning started out well - as the sun came slanting through the blinds, I found my yellow Liverpool jacket and shuffled myself ( half asleep) to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, looking forward to a leisurely morning. It was only afterward that things started to go a bit nervous. Even before I took my first sip, I remembered my heart pounding all day and night for the past few days. Well not exactly a date like my title suggested but it's more like a planned lunch kinda a thing. Time is relative. I know I'm not the first one to realize it and my realization had nothing to do with will power, perfect timing or any theory that Einstein might have postulated. Rather, it had to do with the drag of hours to the first date itself. Yes. I'm nervous. Everyday, I thought about her. I thought of her again after I woke. I read a bit of the latest news on papers, showered and threw a pair of slacks and shirt, then read for another couple of minutes before ...