The Talk In The Car

The last time I confronted Mrs. Margarita Montenegro, she did not like me for his son. And I defended it very well based on my moral perspective. The problem is… she might hate me now, not just ‘she does not like me’ only.

I curled my hair in front of the mirror and watched the reflection of my face. I am currently wearing a bodycon dress, but this time, it is sleeveless and color elegant black. It traced my body sexily, motivating me to wear a pair of black heels tonight.

“What do you think, Mitch?” I mumbled in the air. “Would I impress your idol by wearing this bodycon, hmm?”

At times like this, dressing up for an important occasion, I would call Mitch to ask for her opinion about my outfit and appearance. God, I missed her, so much.

“Fuck, don’t cry, Jill. This is not the right time,” I said and looked up at the ceiling while fanning myself with my two hands.

After I have composed myself, it was the right time when a familiar car’s horn was heard from my apartment room. It is alre