Chapter Eight

It has been three weeks since I last saw her, and I don't plan on going home anytime soon. I still have regrets over my last action, and the image of my handprint on her face that morning is still in my head. I realized I had gone too far by slapping her. I couldn't bring myself to face her after what I did.

"Old men with attitude problems are not her type?" Anytime I remember this statement, it makes me more angry. She didn't just call me an old man, but I wasn't her type? The more I think about it, the more it makes me laugh. That smallie has a spec?

These past weeks have been from one work to another. I have been sleeping at my house located at the outskirts of the town. It is a small house I bought a few years back to rest. It's where I hide whenever I need my space.

I have been going out for drinks with my friends lately. Today again, I went to Brad's bar for drinks. Ben joined in after work today. We were in our usual VIP room when Brad suggested bringing in some girls to spice