The nervous boxI tapped my fingers off of the shiny table top ruthlessly, the noisy clock ticking non-stop and aggravating me further How was I going to tell her?I groaned from lack of sleep and ran my fingers through my straight, dusty blonde hair. I had been going out with her for over 6 months now, so just how was I supposed to tell her? I'm worried sick that it hasn't been long enough and that damned clock isn't helping my mood get any better.It's four in the bloody mourning, my hand ached from clenching my cup of warm milk; "No use drinking it now,"I mumbled, shunting my chair back so that I was near the sink. I wasn't going to bother tryin