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chapter 2 idk
A heavy sigh escaped her lips, the culmination of numerous breaths throughout the
hour. She lay in bed, a contented smile gracing her face. The man’s warm breath drew
near, their last half-hour cocooned in bliss, a world forgotten.
“It was lovely,” she uttered in a refined British accent cultivated over twenty-five years.
Lying on her back, she turned towards him as he approached, gently placing her hand
on his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Paula, you’re the most beautiful sight my eyes will ever have the fortune of seeing,” he
declared. She was flustered, all she managed to reciprocate was a broad grin. “I know,
my love,” she replied in a whimsical tone. Surveying the room, a queen-sized bed
cocooned them in the finest blankets. The ceiling, a calming shade of blue, contrasted
with the rest of the room adorned in hues of red, mirroring the restlessness in her heart.
“Where are you going?” she asked, feigning a hint of fear, which she never truly
revealed.
“Nowhere, my love. Just getting late for an appointment,” he responded, adjusting his
watch. Shirtless and clad in gray trousers, he stood before the mirror, a physique
defying his fifties.
Paula rose abruptly, searching for her spectacles on the nightstand. A swift motion
knocked the lamp to the ground, prompting him to rush to her side. “Sorry, my love,” she

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 apologized, adjusting her spectacles. “Like I told you, the doctors say I’ll lose my vision
in a year or so. I worry I won’t see your beautiful face again.” She seized him by the
neck, pulling him closer. A second later, their lips met.
“Love, don’t worry,” he reassured between passionate kisses. “You could lose
everything, and I’d still be the guy who loves you.”
She pulled back, locking eyes with him. His reflection stared back at him in her gaze.
Time seemed to halt for five precious seconds.
Without warning, she tossed him onto the bed and straddled him. “Love, I would really
love to, but I’m running late,” he began, excitement building.
“Don’t worry, it will just take a minute,” she licked her lips and adjusted her hair. She
then moved closer to his face, and with one swift action, brought a cloth to his nose, and
pressed hard. And harder. And harder. Until she didn’t need to anymore.

He made her forget the world, but she made the world forget him.

The man had occupied the same spot for the past half-hour, cradling a bottle of wine,
his gaze lingering on his surroundings. His left knee exhibited a subtle tremor, not born
of nervousness, but rather anticipation. A question disrupted his thoughts, “Would you
like anything to drink, sir?” The waitress inquired, her voice a melody in the ambient
hum of the bar. Shaking off his reverie, he focused on her. Emerald eyes, a captivating
cascade of golden hair intricately bound, and lips with a resemblance to roses—these
were the details that sprang into focus.

“Sir?” Her prompt pierced through the silence, and he responded in a rusty voice, “I’m
sorry.” Pointing toward the half-empty wine bottle, he requested, “I’ll take another bottle
of whatever this is.” She nodded understandingly, leaving him to grapple with his
thoughts once more.
Sipping the last remnants of the wine, his attention veered toward a woman in her mid-
fifties who fervently looked around bar, as if searching for someone. Rising abruptly, he
waved vigorously, bellowing, “Over here!” The urgency in his voice finally captured her
attention. A minute later, they stood face to face. “Did you get it done Paula?” he asked,
the undertone of nervousness palpable.

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, right?” she retorted. A surge of
happiness enveloped him, and he reached for the bag beside him. Without a second
glance, he handed it over. Uncomfortable tension hung in the air as they avoided each

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 other’s gaze, a myriad of unspoken words lingering. “I know this was hard, but thank
you, Paula,” he confessed, sincerity permeating his words. “My team will send you an
address and time. Please be there so we can extract the subject’s fingerprints and DNA
from your body,” he admitted, the last words leaving a bitter taste.

She nodded, rising from her seat, adjusting her dress as she made her way out of the
bar. Pausing at the door, as if struck by a sudden realization, she turned back to him,
stating, “Next time, don’t call me by my name. I am your mother, after all.”

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