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▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ Pardon' ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
When she got to his place she took advantage of the environment, she kept her wine glass full and went through his closet, It was the only room she hadn't been in yet. It was full and clean, you could tell everything was expensive. She didn't really touch anything but she did examine the labels and tags on the inside. She then got to a box that had a letter on it, the name on the letter wrote "Kira". It was a bright orange box with black lining on it. She grabbed the box closer to her opening it placing the wine glass beside her. It was a brown leather purse with gold accents. It was a beautiful bag.
Evara pulled her leg up to her knee as the wine glass tipped over spilling on the box and the purse. Her eyes grew wide as she gasped.
"Fuck,Fuck—shit oh my goodness" she panicked moving the purse and t alcohol away from the designer bag.
She quickly grabbed the box and put it back at the top of his closet grabbing the letter that had the alcohol on it as well. She panicked and worried about is reaction, what if that was for his mother or his actual significant other, or.
She couldn't think of any other women.
He never brought up a Kira or anyone with a K name. Evara sighed opening the letter as it read.
_______________________________________
Kira,
You cried over the bag, so here it is.
Not out of indulgence but because I've learned that giving has become easier than connecting. I hope this brings you atleast a smile.
-C 1/15/2016 ____________________________________
Evara stuffed the letter back into the envelope and ignored the seal falling into the floor she put evening back in place.
As she thought she did?
Then grabbed her alcohol filled wine glass. She then turned off the lights in the closet and closed the door sighing. He was eventually going to find her mess. Evara figured she had fucked up things for herself already.
She then went for his record player and started playing one of his records, it was all old music some of it was rock but she found his rich records add started playing more soft add dreamy jazz.
"I've learned that giving has become easier than connecting."
Those words kept circling in her head. Had he written that about her too? Maybe not yet. But maybe eventually.
She wanted to leave. She wanted to stay.
Instead, she went back downstairs to the couch, curled up into the corner, and pulled the throw over her legs. She stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy, nerves burning quietly beneath her skin.
