Act I, Scene XVI

When she arrived back in Santa Barbara, Anna was disappointed to find that she’d had no post at all. No letters. She quickly scolded herself, telling herself that of course he had not written back yet, he had just returned home from a long tour and had had no time yet to write to her. How silly she was being.
And yet, she felt more than just disappointed; she felt let down. Was he tired of her? Had she done something to offend him? She didn’t want to be thinking such things, didn’t want to be so very weak, but she could not help it. Somehow he had come to mean a lot to her. Not Bill Kaulitz, the singer of a famous band; just her friend Bill, who she wrote letters to, Skyped on occasion with, and talked to and texted over the phone at the strangest times imaginable. He had been her rock through it all, he had been there for her when no one else had. And now he did not respond anymore.
Again she chided herself. It had only been a couple of days. He may still write, Anna told herself. She would just wait a couple more days, and if he hadn’t responded then, she would confront him herself. She wasn’t sure how she was planning on doing that, but at the very least it was action, and she would be the passive passenger of her life no longer.