The breeze had a noticeable chill to it as she walked slowly up the steps
to their apartment building, knowing that he wouldn't be there waiting for
her.
She sighed as she slowly put the key in the lock and swung the heavy oak door open. She quickly stepped inside, throwing the keys on a nearby bench that was lettered with family photos. He was in none of them.
She shut the door and turned her stereo on, making the floor pump slightly with the rap that exploded from the speakers.
She kicked off her shoes, and with a pile of paperwork, headed toward the dinning table with a case of pens and pencils. When he wasn't around she usually always worked. She was only 20, and already found it hard to break her workaholic nature. It seemed to be the only thing to get him out of her mind.
Beautiful hazel eyes, reckless, fun.
She started writing furiously, she was a journalist for the New Week Herald. It was a hard job, but one she adored, it made her feel free when she wrote.
She sighed when she looked at her fingers as they wrote neatly on the page. Everything remaindered her of him, long, tanned fingers, strong.
Secrets, she was writing an essay on secrets, what a laugh! Was life mocking her? Mocking her secret? Him?
He was her secret, he always had been. For two years he had come and gone through her apartment like a shadow. Never leaving any trace to his being there, probably not even a fingerprint.
Sometimes she even doubted that he was real. He had never met her father, the only family she had. As for her friends, like everyone else, they didn't know that he even existed in her world.
Suddenly, she stopped writing and gently laid her pencil down, leaning back in her chair. She slowly rubbed her belly that had a slight rounded lump to it. Finally, he had left his trace.she was having his baby.
Okay.um, please I'd love any reviews.just your honest opinions thanks.
She sighed as she slowly put the key in the lock and swung the heavy oak door open. She quickly stepped inside, throwing the keys on a nearby bench that was lettered with family photos. He was in none of them.
She shut the door and turned her stereo on, making the floor pump slightly with the rap that exploded from the speakers.
She kicked off her shoes, and with a pile of paperwork, headed toward the dinning table with a case of pens and pencils. When he wasn't around she usually always worked. She was only 20, and already found it hard to break her workaholic nature. It seemed to be the only thing to get him out of her mind.
Beautiful hazel eyes, reckless, fun.
She started writing furiously, she was a journalist for the New Week Herald. It was a hard job, but one she adored, it made her feel free when she wrote.
She sighed when she looked at her fingers as they wrote neatly on the page. Everything remaindered her of him, long, tanned fingers, strong.
Secrets, she was writing an essay on secrets, what a laugh! Was life mocking her? Mocking her secret? Him?
He was her secret, he always had been. For two years he had come and gone through her apartment like a shadow. Never leaving any trace to his being there, probably not even a fingerprint.
Sometimes she even doubted that he was real. He had never met her father, the only family she had. As for her friends, like everyone else, they didn't know that he even existed in her world.
Suddenly, she stopped writing and gently laid her pencil down, leaning back in her chair. She slowly rubbed her belly that had a slight rounded lump to it. Finally, he had left his trace.she was having his baby.
Okay.um, please I'd love any reviews.just your honest opinions thanks.
