A bit too much alcohol, but all stays the same. I barely got to my bunk. I felt my stomach tie in a knot, and the wounds on my hands just pinch under the sleeves. It's possible that one of them has opened up again.
I felt cruel.
Two weeks.
The route and being in constant motion distracted me. I waited for him to call, but he didn't. I had enough of waiting.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I typed a message, but my fingers were shaking so much that I didn't even know when I was crying for good.
Suddenly the phone rang and I received the call.
"Angeline?" His uncertain, repenting voice sounded on the other side.
"Clinton... I just... I miss you and I can't find peace of mind. I still think about how angry you are with me..." I was sobbing.
"I miss you too. It doesn't matter that you won't come... It seemed important, but you know..."- I heard bitterness in his voice. He tried to relax the atmosphere with croaking, but it only overwhelmed me.
"Talk to me, okay? My head is pounding and I wanna fall asleep. I had few hours working and I think I got drunk after all" I confessed, feeling miserable.
"I'll tell you a story, okay?" I swear I heard a smile in his voice. As far as it is possible...
"Anything, if I hear your voice," I said mumbling to myself.
"You're seriously drunk" he laughed "Be good, don't do this anymore, okay?"
"I won't" I assured him, sinking into beginning of the story.
My eyelids dropped with more and more words heard until I finally fell asleep.
////
What do you think?
