Thirty eight

Weruche finally got a call from Karis. At first, she had thought the conversation would be awkward, but he had been completely distant and polite as he explained a few things that had to do with her job. She had felt a little bit more broken than she would have felt if their conversation had actually been awkward instead of distant, polite and cold. At least awkwardness meant that their was still something between them.

She missed him, she hated herself, hated the fact that she missed him, that she had been stupid enough to end what they had, and still to cowardly to move on. But how could she tell her heart to move on, how could she command her heart to stop having feelings for the first man who had kissed her, touched her, made her feel like a woman.

She had almost given up hope, until he had suggested out of the blue that he was also in New York, and perhaps they could meet up.

She longed to meet with him, to run into his arms, and let him hold her, only in his arms could she feel