The Forgotten Love ✔

15 Dannie

Dannie POV.

But tonight I woke up from the dream again.

The sky is still dark, I turn on the desk lamp, and take deep breaths. The child didn't cry tonight. He just stared at me with wide eyes, filled with despair of being abandoned, making my heart ache.

I get up and go to wash up in the bathroom and then sit dry until dawn. The quietness of the house scares me, so I put on my coat and leave.

There are few pedestriations on the street in the early morning, only a few old people are walking on the roadside.

I pass by a breakfast shop and ask the female boss for a cup of coffee.

There are three or four customers eating in the shop, most of them with a brioche or omelette on the table.

When the female boss is brewing coffee, she smiles and asks me, "Don't you want something to eat?"

I shake my head, "I'm not hungry now."

My heart is still pounding because of that dream.

She nods and pours coffee into the cup, and then hands it to me with a friendly smile, "I heard from Sara that you can draw, right?"

I didn't react for a moment.

The female boss shows two dimples, and points to the empty white wall in the shop, "I'm planning to renovate the shop, this wall is too empty. And I don't understand aesthetics, so would you draw me a picture to hang here?"

When I get home, I receive a call from Anthony, and I mention it to him.

"You agreed when she asked you?"

"Yes."

"Have you discussed the remuneration?"

I name a number.

Anthony says in an unhappy tone: "They must not know that your paintings start at six figures at auction."

"It doesn't matter," I say, "I'm no longer a professional painter."

There is silence for a moment on the other end of the phone, and Anthony says: "Actually, the most important thing is that you are happy. The job is pretty good and there is no pressure."

Anthony has been calling me a lot lately. I know he is just making sure I am safe, so I say, "Don't worry, everything is fine here."

Anthony pretends not to understand what I said, "I'm not worried about you now, I'm worried about that bastard harassing you shamelessly."

I think about what happened yesterday and look down at the ground, "He's gone."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes."

I make a salad for lunch, and after lunch, Sara knocks on the door and hands me a round grapefruit.

"Asher brought it back, very fresh, try it."

Asher is her son, who is in his early twenties, studies agriculture, and likes rock music. I can hear his wolf-like singing voice every weekend.

I thank Sara, and she smiles, "You're welcome. But I didn't expect the female boss of the breakfast shop to really ask you for a painting. I thought she was just kidding."

So that's why she did it.

Living in a small town is like this, neighbors are close, what happened in the morning, the whole street knows in the afternoon.