Vanessa
My apartment is silent, too quiet.
City lights come through the windows, drawing long shadows on the wooden floor. I've always loved the view from here. Orderly. Predictable. Like my life... Or as I thought it was.
I pour myself a glass of wine, but I barely taste it. The taste seems flat to me tonight.
I can't stop thinking about roses, reds... Not white, not yellow. Reds.
I close my eyes for a moment and feel that pressure again in my chest. It's not exactly anger. It's something more poignant.
Insecurity.
I don't usually feel that, I pick up the phone before thinking about it too much. I dial Gustavo's number.
Answer the second tone.
"Vanessa?"
"Are you busy?"
There is a brief pause.
"Never for you."
I smile barely. Gustavo has always been simple. Direct. No fuss.
