"Me neither."
He added a touch of authority to his tone, "Do you need me to send someone to find you now?"
I moved my lips, holding the phone a bit speechless, and then, with some helplessness, I had to change my words, "Okay... my arm has a minor abrasion, just treated it, a couple of band-aids will do."
"Just a minor abrasion?"
"Yes."
"Are you at the studio or home?"
"Studio."
"Go back, stop working. Close the doors and windows well tonight, if anything unexpected happens, call me, I'll help you handle it."
I listened dazedly to his instructions, not understanding why I was so obediently letting him arrange everything.
We are clearly nothing to each other.
Yet his words and actions make it seem like he's treating me like his girlfriend.
"Well... he's gone now, it's fine, and my injury is really just a scratch, no need to be—"
I wanted to say there's no need to make a big deal out of it and be so anxious.
