Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Genevieve's eyes fluttered open, the sunlight harsh against her sleep-softened face. She stretched, chasing away the remnants of drowsiness, and a smile flickered across her face at the sight of Kojo's peaceful slumber.
She swung her legs over the bed, the chill of the morning nipping at her legs, a stark contrast to the cocoon of warmth she'd left behind. The clock's accusatory gaze met her--9:42--and she bit back a curse. She winced at the late start. Time had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. The house was silent, her footsteps the only sound as she moved through the stillness.
Last night's memories lingered, a tantalizing whisper against her senses. She could still feel the ghost of Tim's breath on her skin. But reality intruded, harsh and unyielding, as she glanced at her phone--17 missed calls from Henry. She sent a quick text--I'm okay--then turned the phone off. No classes today meant no obligations, no need to rush.
In the bathroom, her reflection in the mirror was a stranger's gaze meeting hers. Tim's note on the mirror offering a sense of normalcy of her thoughts, Extra toothbrush on sink. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Make yourself at home. She brushed her teeth with mechanical movements, her mind a battlefield of what-ifs.
She made her way to the kitchen, a testament to Tim's unexpected domesticity, its surfaces gleaming. She contemplated cooking, but the thought of disrupting the pristine order felt like a transgression she wasn't ready to commit.
Henry would be at work, she reasoned, a perfect time to collect more of her belongings. But doubt gnawed at her--was this just a temporary escape or step towards something more permanent?
The walk to our apartment was a short one, each step heavy with thought. The morning air bit at her cheeks as she moved. She reached the familiar apartment, her footsteps heavy before the threshold of the door. She let out a breath of air, her hesitation evident. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, heart pounding.
She unlocked the door, and pushed it open, stepping into the space that now felt foreign to her. She moved towards the bedroom gathering as much of her things as she could, but the sound of the shower running stopped her in her tracks. He's supposed to be at work, she thought. Panic set in at the realization, she turned to leave, but it was too late.
