Live.
Live.
Live.
Faye holds onto the crumpled receipt in her palm, unsure of what she should do with it. A bigger part of her says that it is not a wise idea to see him again while there is a small voice telling her to live.
'Live,' it says.
Faye has forgotten what it is like to be alive. She sometimes wonder if she was born to live, and she is working herself to grave. It is true that she finds infinite satisfaction in her job. Nevertheless, there is always something missing.
Being a single lady is not a problem for her. In fact, she celebrate this independence that she possesses. However, a tiny part of her longs to be with someone, to have some level of intimacy with a special person. Then again, she avoids deep relationships and everything that comes with it.
She squashes the paper in her fist and is about to throw it into the bin, but she hesitates at the last second. "What if..." she mumbles.
Regret is quite exhausting, and she is sure that getting rid of the slip of paper will bother her for the rest of her days. She is bound to feel remorse once she succeeds in disposing his number.
Finally, she slides it in her agenda and saves it for later. She has always been hasty in making decisions, and she realizes he consequence of this. For this reason, she tells herself to slow down when she knows she is about to decide rashly.
Work. Work. Work.
Her life revolves around her job where she is not appreciated enough. In fact, she does not know if anyone values the work she does. Nonetheless, she gives her best at what she does because that is exactly how she is made. For the most part, it is because of the fact that she is a perfectionist.
"Mom..." she starts then instantly becomes reluctant.
They are having dinner and her mother is babbling about same old things. She learned a long time ago not to talk about work because her mother has never been interested in it. Now, she wants to talk about meeting Errol yet she expects being rebuffed by her. She does not even want to try.
"What's up?" She asks.
"No, nothing..."
Her mother goes on as if she hasn't said anything that may have caused others to doubt. That is the kind of relationship she has with her mother. She never fails to feel that sharing her thoughts and feelings with her mom will get some sort of reaction. Ufortunately, her mom rarely considers her feelings and neither does she seem to care.
Faye goes to bed, still having second thoughts about contacting the blue-eyed Brit. In the end, she succumbs to sleep.
YOU ARE READING
FORGOTTEN
RomantizmI sometimes forget I am a woman. I sometimes forget that I am alive. I sometimes forget to breathe. And then you stand there before me. I even forget myself. Faye finds herself in a tight spot when she meets Errol, the man who sets her heart beating...
