So, here I am, waiting by her black window, hoping something will change, and with it the endorphins. She closed the blinds between my checks - it's dark, barely any difference. I've never seen her; it's just the information. She is in there, in the shadows of her room that I will never look into. This makes me happy. She is home, just like myself. This is obsession. Every sound of her doors triggers me. I am Pavlov's dog.