OPHELIA
I shouldn't have opened that drawer.
The frayed leather folder I’d vowed to throw out years ago had been under a stack of untouched files. But after the shoot, after having his hand around my waist for the second time this week, after hearing him call my name with that tone like we were something, neither gravity nor reason could hold me back from opening the drawer.
Inside was nothing of significance. Just trash and some stuff I should have discarded. A crumpled piece of paper, a scarf he’d bought when he came over to my place then. I even kept the name badge given to me on my first day at Regent Pharmaceuticals.
The real mistake I made though was touching that badge. Because the moment I held that plastic badge in my hand, my brain shut down.
And I was there again, all of a
