Looking down at the swirling red liquid in her glass, she could almost imagine him there. If she closes her eyes really tight she could see them dancing or laughing or just... just talking. The first night they met he had recued her from some jerk at the bar only to turn into that jerk. She thought rejecting him would be enough but men like that just can't refuse a challenge, so the next night when she showed up he was there, waiting for her. Finally she gave in and danced then he took her for coffee the next day, and that was it. He had her, and she was his until she just got up and walked away. Thinking about it still hurts and she doesn’t know why she did it and even now almost a year later tucked away it the darkest corner of the club she misses him. But even so when he finally sees her and starts to make his way over she runs away. She's always running.
No comments:
Post a Comment