three am.

her [3]

She got home seven minutes past five in the morning, with an unexplainable sensation bubbling under her skin. The thrill and adrenaline of the three am's happenings rapidly drained from her system. However, she was not emptied out; as the joy flowed out, the anger, confusion, and fatigue washed over her like a great blue wave. The fatigue was self-explanatory. And the confusion was far too confusing to be discussed.

The anger though had a checklist for its reasons. First, her plan for the night did not only get ruined, but was actually shot down by him. All she wanted that night was to give three am a little bit more of life; and she wanted to do it with no one but him. It disappointed her tremendously when he did not agree with her proposal.

Second, was the police who always seemed to be showing up wherever she went. Third, which could also be classified under Reasons For Guilt, was that she had put him at risk of trouble. And lastly, the inevitable fact that her real life was catching up with their three am seemed to be staring right at her.

The way she saw it, her life was a wreck-this-journal already battered with far too many ruined pages. It consisted of incomprehensible scribbles and ink blots that she was not proud of. Three am was a clean slate that restarted everyday; with it, she was the only one holding the pen.

However, that night with the flashing blue and red lights, a small splatter of red ink had dirtied her blank page.