CIXOT EVOL

Surprise 😲 🌟

Witha smile, she swiftly snatched the tissue paper from my hands, turned on herheels, and gracefully exited the coffee shop. Left in a state of shock, I realisedthat I hadn't heard from the mystery guy since our last encounter. The memoriesof his scent lingered in my mind, creating an imprint that echoed with eachpassing moment.

The memories of his scent lingered in my mind, creating an imprint that echoed with each passing moment. I realised that he never possessed my phone number, leaving me to question how I could expect to hear from him, then it hit me he knew where I lived. A swarm of thoughts inundated my mind as I grappled with the intriguing turn of events, each possibility leaving me on the precipice of the unknown.

Six months later, I found myself working as a psychiatrist. Stepping into my office felt like entering a calm oasis. The room was cozy, with soft grey tones all around. The chairs blended smoothly with the walls, and the wooden floor added a comforting touch. I wore black pants and a crisp white shirt, my curly hair framing my face as I settled in for the day.

Entering the room, a sense of calm washed over me, setting the stage for the healing process that would take place here. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, casting a gentle warmth. Two vibrant palm trees stood by the white bookshelf, bringing a bit of nature indoors. In the middle of it all sat the therapist's bed, ready to listen to the tales that would unfold. In the room, two chairs sat opposite each other, spaced just right for therapeutic conversations. It felt peaceful and welcoming, a haven for anyone seeking guidance. On the walls hung two paintings of cats playing with a ball of yarn, adding a touch of whimsy to the space.

The door labelled "Dr. Moore," symbolised entry into a place where minds were explored, emotions untangled, and healing began. It was a sanctuary for mental well-being, carefully crafted to inspire trust and comfort for those seeking support on their path to mental health. As the clock struck 8:00 AM, the anticipation of my first appointment at 9:00 AM began to mount. Scanning through my schedule, a name stood out—Chris, with no surname attached. I set about preparing for the upcoming session, my thoughts weaving through the possibilities of who this Chris might be.

Seated in my office, the minutes ticked by, going through some paper works and notes left from my previous appointments, as I awaited the arrival of my mysterious appointment. At last, the door swung open, ushering in a wave of a familiar scent that brushed past my nostrils. My gaze shifted upward from his feet, revealing a figure donned in a fitted suit—tall, lean, with a muscular build and broad shoulders. His dark-coloured hair, meticulously styled with a side part, framed his features. The man before me was impeccably dressed, his chin and lips reminiscent of cherries, slightly pale, while his nose and intense brown eyes contributed to the symphony of striking features. 

To my surprise, he was the mystery guy from six months ago, the one with the cherry blossom lips. Startled, I quickly regained my composure and greeted him warmly, trying to hide my surprise. "Welcome, Mr...?" I trailed off, waiting for him to provide his last name. With a casual demeanour, he responded, "Chris." My eyes widened, and I took a deep breath, grappling with the realisation that the enigmatic man standing before me was, indeed, the mystery guy.

Regainingmy professional composure, I gestured towards a chair. "Please, have aseat, Mr. Chris," I offered, extending the courtesy. However, he counteredwith a simple, "No, just Chris." The air in the room hung withunspoken revelations, and as the session commenced,I guided our therapeutic conversation with a fresh perspective, realising how intricate our connections and destinies can be. Clearing my throat, I began to address him, "So, Chri—" before she could complete his name, he interjected, questioning why I never called. Puzzled, I sought clarification, responding with a simple, "Pardon?" His inquiry echoed smoothly, his voice low yet intense, his gaze fixed on Penn. Rising from his chair, the distinct sound of his leather, light brown, woody polished shoes resonated on the floor as he approached.

Leaning over, he placed his hands on the chair arms, repeating the question, "Why you never call?" The atmosphere crackled with tension as their eyes met, locked in an unspoken exchange. The room filled with the soft shuffle of his footsteps, creating a sensory symphony that resonated with their shared history. Their breaths mingled, creating a hot and steamy aura that brought back memories of a time not long ago.

Caughtin a moment of suspended connection, they continued to gaze at each other,their eyes locked in a silent conversation. The intensity of their proximityheld the weight of unspoken emotions. Theintensity of their proximity held the weight of unspoken emotions. Eventually,Penn broke the contact, distancing herself from the magnetic pull. In his mind,he grappled with the mystery of why she never called, a question that lingeredin the air. In a world where many might have been drawn to his good looks, Penn stood apart. She had a uniqueness that set her apart from others. As they stood together, there was a feeling of something unspoken, like their futures were intertwined in ways they couldn't yet understand. The air thickened with anticipation as he gently withdrew his hands from the chair. a subtle punctuation to the tension that had silently built. Standing tall, a commanding figure against the ambient shadows, he executed a graceful turn on his feet. Each deliberate movement seemed to tell a story, and as he made his way back to his seat, the room held its breath.