He was at my house. It had been something simple: pharmacy, short conversation, and I invited him in. We knew time was short. He asked, almost laughing: "What time is your sister arriving?" I looked at my phone. Eleven. The clock showed ten forty. There was still time. And we knew exactly what for. The kiss came before the thought. It wasn't an impulse, it was a decision. I was going to be a few days without seeing him. And I didn't want anything to be left unresolved between us. When the phone rang, he hadn't come yet. It was my sister. I answered quickly, asked her to wait. I went back to him, my body already tense with urgency. I spoke softly, seriously, almost like a plea: "Come... I want you to come before you go." It wasn't haste. It was a goodbye the way we know how to do it. The phone rang again. I went to the front of the house, took a deep breath, answered normally. Common conversation. A feigned routine. Inside, I was still with him. Because I didn't want to go days without seeing him, knowing that something was left unfinished. Some sexual encounters aren't about time. They're about not letting things fall short. And this one happened minutes before everyone else arrived.