Rafael:
The imported Italian marble beneath my feet felt colder than usual as I paced the length of my penthouse living room. Four AM had turned into five, then six, and sleep remained as elusive as smoke. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Fiona's face. Heard her voice whispering my name through the phone. Felt the phantom touch of her skin under my fingertips.
The memory of our interrupted conversation burned through my veins like acid. Eighteen minutes of pure torture that had ended with a dead line and seventeen unanswered callbacks.
I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and dialed her number again. The call went straight to voicemail, just like the previous attempts.
"f**k this." I hurled the device across the room, watching it bounce off the leather armchair and clatter to
