+TYPED OUT-

DEDICATION

Monday didn't show up at his talk, and for Kenneth, it was for the better. The man gave the type of speech that made him successful, and the public was in for it as the whistles and applause thundered through the whole fair attested.

The booth visitors looked around, searching for the source of the ear-bashing cacophony.

"Well, well, it seems Kenny is still making it rain," Dagmar threw before drinking some water.

Monday gestured to get up and sat back down. In moments like that, Monday smoked, and by reflex, she got up. The woman sighed; she had no cigarettes and hadn't smoked in over six months. Flinching was out of the question, especially for the person who tacitly incited her to stop.

Monday recalled Kenneth's expression whenever she saw or inhaled cigarette vipers. Shock or horror, one only had to choose their poison. She refuted the theory, but every element validated the idea that Kenneth rejected her because of her smoking habit. It was too dumb to be true. Kenneth was a grown man. How could he react in such a childish manner?

Luce had evoked trauma, and Monday found it challenging to accept. Monday closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she mentally fought the temptation to ask Dagmar for a cigarette.

"Excuse me, can I have a signed dedication?"

This voice.

Monday opened her eyes to find Kenneth standing, holding her book open.

Gosh, he was a handsome castaway. Mondays' eyes darted, and she lowered her gaze as if she was afraid the man read her last thoughts.

"Monday, I mean Daye."

She looked up, "what do you want, Kenneth?"

Her voice and those cherry lips, mama mia, thought the man, "I'd like a dedication."

Monday sighed, "who should I dedicate it to?"

It was forcibly for someone else; the grand Kenneth Mosely didn't read tuna fish sandwiches.

"To Kenneth Mosely. ㅡYes, you can write to Kenneth, the man who doesn't deserve either my time or energy."

"Kenneth," Monday looked around to see if anyone stared at the scene. Only Dagmar eyed the man up and down with the killer's glint in her eye. Monday was sure Dagmar could get away with murder if she ever committed one.

"I would speak with you elsewhere, but I imagine you won't go anywhere with me. So I'm okay with doing it here." The man shrugged, "ㅡI've already confessed on YouTube, meaning the whole world. I'm shameless right now."

"Kenneth, listen, you don't need to embarrass yourself or whatever. I don't need anyㅡ."

"But I do; I need to do this, Monday. You know how much I hate to lie. Lying to myself is torture. Pretending that what happened between us was meaningless is intolerable, and knowing that my behavior hurt you somehow is hell."

"Wow, it wasn't that bad.ㅡI mean, you managed to survive until now, why the drama. You're still the grand orator who can switch one's life with a coaching book. You don't bow down to anyone, I'm sorry, but I doubt you lost some sleep over me. If it were the case, you could have at least spoken to me. "

Kenneth nodded, "I'm shameless now, but I was a coward then. I couldn't face you."

Monday shook her head, "you say it was torture. Do you know how it feels to have someone walkㅡ," Monday shook her head again. She didn't even want to think about the incident that slapped pride off her face.

Kenneth pursed his lips. He knew it was now or ever and that he could say goodbye to any hope he had if he didn't express his feelings sincerely, "I was an asshole."

"You were more than that," Monday added.

"I know."

Monday looked straight into his eyes, "I hate you."

"I still like you a lot. Perhaps more than before," Kenneth added.

Mondays' lashes fluttered close and opened; an etched expression replaced her implacable gaze.

"Apology accepted. We're good, Kenneth."

"Don't accept it."

"Pardon?"

"Don't accept my apology. I know I'd ask for reparation if someone treated me the way I did to you."

Monday turned her head to the side and looked at Dagmar, who shrugged. She returned her focus to Kenneth and cocked an eyebrow, "reparation?"

"Yes, you can write your conditions right there?" Kenneth said and pointed to the blank page of her book.

Seeing no response from Monday, Kenneth decided to do things himself. He had prepared for the eventuality where Monday would legitimately hold back. "Okay, I'll help you," Kenneth took the book and the pen from Mondays' hands and wrote. He then gave the book to her.

"Hey, I thought I was dedicating a book to you. Now, I have one from you in my book. Can someone tell me in which world that makes sense?" Monday blinked as her mind attempted to process the episode and find the logic.

"Kenneth," Bradley said and came to stand behind him, "you've got an interview in five minutes."

Monday realized Kenneth had been there for almost ten minutes without Meredith popping out of nowhere.

"I'm coming, Bradley," Kenneth replied before returning his gaze to Monday, "I meant what I said, Monday. Let's go, Bradley."

He left, and Dagmar moved closer. They both stared at the book.

"He's so annoying. Can you believe it? The man dedicated my book to me."

"Aren't you going to look at what he wrote?" Dagmar asked.

"I don't care about what heㅡ."

Dagmar picked the book up, "In that case, let me see,"

"Dagmar, no," Monday said, snatching the book back and opening it. She refused to have someone else read what Kenneth wrote in her stead.

To Monday,

I know what I did was childish and immature.

I'm not perfect, but I'm willing to try.

Let me show you life with me can be better than fiction.

P.S. Keep this and show it to me whenever I annoy you.

Kenneth T. Mosley

His words rang like a promise, but that instant, it served as a reset button.

"Monday, are you okay?"

"I swear, Dagmar, I hate that man. I really do," Monday said while her lips arched without consent for a corner smile.

Kenneth walked away with the assurance people knew him by, but inside he tore his hair out. 

Did his message come across?

Did Monday understand that he was conscious he messed up and regretted taking so much time to get back to her?

Gosh, she was pretty. His imagination did her no justice. Kenneth spent months chasing lookalikes on the streets of New York. Any curls or afro had the man raising his head to see.

Flamboyantly colored dresses made the man reminisce. Their story was short, but his heart had never beaten so hard.

What was an improvised one-night stand was all Kenneth thought of for many nights. Monday went from being not his type to the only kind of woman he desired. The man couldn't pinpoint why she had such an effect on him. Thus he had to renew to find out if it was love, and if so, what did he have to do to survive the middle part and take it to a happier end.