Michael
That night I returned home and felt like my whole world had been shattered. The rain had soaked me to the bone, and I was all shivering, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the ice in my chest. I wandered into my living room and froze on the spot. Heather was sitting on my couch, leaning with her legs crossed, and a glass of whiskey. She looked composed, too composed, and that worried me more.
“How did you get in here?” I asked. She held up a key, “You gave it to me three weeks ago, remember?”
I had forgotten about the key. I am such a moron. “What do you want, Heather?”
She stood up slowly, leaving the glass on the coffee table. Her black dress hugged her curves, and her red lipstick was impeccable. She looked like a dark refined creature who had cornered her prey.
