Bare feet placed firmly on the peach, shag rug as she turned and bent over the bathtub, fingers lacing about the knobs of the faucet. Warm water fille... the bathtub as she delicately stepped inside. Her soft, blissful humming filling the small white room as her form sat down. A piece of paper sat by the sink, words scrawled almost illegible upon its thin blue lines. She had read it three times before being satisfied with what she had written. A satisfied smirk upon those pale, rose petal, lips. The day was dragging along so slowly, and I was full of anticipation and anxiety wondering if I was going to ever see this guy again. My mom came home with a car full of groceries, which I helped her unload, but I also noticed a full brown paper bag in her front seat. It looked like she was stocking up her liquor cabinet, which was something she rarely did. I tried to stay upstairs that afternoon, because I didn’t want to miss anything. Later that evening while I was watching t.v. in our living. More

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