I lay stunned for ten minutes, not knowing what to do. Slowly I pushed myself off the couch, shut the door and turned to the bedroom. After a hot shower, I went about straightening the apartment, putting things away. Hanging my coat in its rightful place.
I dragged my briefcase over to the bed, and in the light of the night lamp I emptied its contents. A leather-bound book fell out. ‘The Midnight Rendezvous’. I had completely forgotten all about it! I scanned the front and back cover and the first few pages inside, but the name of the author was not mentioned anywhere at all. Funny. I bought a book without checking the author? There was not even an ‘anon’ typed somewhere. I did not even remember putting the book inside the briefcase. Or did I put it in the glove compartment. My head refused to think, so I decided to read.
After a dozen pages, I flung the book to the bed. I was feeling funny. I raced to the loo and emptied the contents of my stomach. Regurgitating is an exhaustive process, and it left me drained. I quickly brushed my teeth. Feeling better and hungrier than before, I made myself a snack. I glanced at the clock. 1:53 am. I turned the television on, kept the volume low and returned to the book. But this time, something was sticking out of the book.
Something stiff and white.
With a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich, I pulled out the trespassing item. It was a picture. And not just any picture, but the same one that left me shaken and stirred in the bookshop. The Little Black Shop of Books.
How did it even get here? I had left that book safely up on the self! My head started to spin around the endless questions and eluding answers. I was not even looking at the picture, but after the first few minutes of hyperventilation, I calmed down. I reprimanded myself for behaving like a sissy and pulled myself together. Its just a picture you idiot. It can’t hurt you.
My eyes roamed up and down the girl, who was still sitting coy on her bed. I gave the ambient surrounding a complete miss, and focussed on the bedsheet, wrapped suggestively around her bosom. Her head hung low to the right, her hair tousled around her neck. The thin bedsheet clung to her dearly, marking her shape like a statue.
And before I realised, her eyes caught mine. Those large pearl drops pleading with me.
Participating in Half Marathon Blogging Challenge – Day 9 – with Blogchatter.