Warmth
"You look upset," Stephen sat across the table and looked straight at me with a teasing smirk. He watches me for a second as if trying to read my thoughts. Then after a passing moment, almost sighing, he shakes his head at me with that disappointed expression. "What?" I glare at his face. I know he's older than me for about three years and he is my senior. But we've headed on past that ever since he had rebuffed me as a simple wannabe who sleeps her way through the music business. Respect doesn't exist now between us, neither are decent conversations. And most of those times, our talks only consist of more bickering and insults. "Sympathy isn't right for you," he pointedly tells me and I watch him eye something behind me. And just like a magnifier, the act made me suddenly more aware of
- Writer
