Dawn
The damn tattoo on his lower stomach. I know this tattoo, and I have seen it before. It has instantly made my whole perspective change. I now know who the masked man is, and this time I am very sure of his identity. I will keep playing it cool as though I don't know who he is; just see how far he is willing to go on this entire issue.
“I can't have this dress.” I take a few steps towards him, and I hand him back the dress.
He leans his head and ignores my stretched-out hand.
“If you don't want it, you burn it. You can burn the rest of the things too. Don't blame me for doing something that your husband never did.” The truth always hurts.
My hands fall to my sides. The texture of the dress in the hands feels so good. I know I would look great if I wore it.
Fuck it! I will
