The still air, coupled with the early sunset and the sudden bloom in Robert’s garden, would be Theresa’s description of a perfect weathered Saturday morning as another season of the year was slowly beginning to creep in. She started the day by assisting Margaret who was doing a clean up of the house. Oh boy, her work was not easy.   Margaret on the otherhand, was very appreciative of Theresa’s help and promised to make her something special for lunch as a thank you gesture to which Theresa feigned a squeal. She’d rather not have Margaret stressing about some special lunch.          After a week of living in Robert’s house, she eventually decided to tour herself. This time, paying attention to all the details of the rooms. Turns out, rich people have a room for everything. The one place she found especially peaceful was the library. Margaret had told her the attic room was the library but she ha

       Sam let out a rile sigh. Why now? Charles was the manager of the auto mechanic garage who took appropriate care of anything and everything that goes wrong in their cars. After he had put a few calls through to him the day before, Charles claimed his schedule was occupied for the next two days but promised to come by the weekend. Yesterday he had expected him, he didn’t show up and today, when he had forgotten he even sent for him, he shows up. Just when he was in the middle of something. He groaned out, exchanging looks with Theresa whose cheek had become pink. It was apparent she was embarrassed Margaret had caught them making out. Something he couldn’t care less about. A cheeky smile tugged at his lips as he watched her button her shirt all the way to the top. And he gave her a ‘this isn’t over’ look before following Margaret down to the living room where Charles sat patiently, awaiting him.   “Charles.” He called unethusiastically o

     Sam looked up from the monitor to see his assistant come in with a latte in hand and a news paper in the other.    "Here is today's Cloud newspaper sir," she said, leaving it on the desk, as well as the decaf latte.     She flipped open her notepad and began to read out his schedule for the day.     ". . . and you have a lunch meeting with Louise Sanders at two to discuss the publication of the last book in her trilogy," she finished, hooking the pen to the notepad.     Sam nodded. "I'll speak with Louise Sanders in the early hours of the evening. So, postpone the interview till then."      She nodded and quickly scribbled it down on the notepad. "Anything else?"      "No," he answered. "Thank you, Emilia."        And she exited the office.      He sighed. He has been awaiting that lat

     Sam was still leaning on her desk, smiling to himself. He glanced at his wrist watch. Since she left now, it wouldn’t take her more than fifteen minutes to get to the city’s capital. At most, twenty if there’s any hitch on the road. He tucked his hands into his pocket, standing upright. He wandered to the window side and drew back the curtain. Quick enough to see her board a cab. As usual, she had gone with a photographer. He smiled to himself again, recalling the first time he heard her name in the house. It was that Saturday after the award show. He overheard Robert informing Margaret that he’ll be expecting a guest that morning, by name, Theresa Gray. Something had come up with the Cloud papers that morning so he had rushed out to the agency before she arrived.   Well, it would have been a shame if he hadn’t been around to see her in the house and she didn’t accept Robert’s contract and job offer. That would mean he probably wouldn’t have

    Her reflection on the mirror was more or less how her life was at the moment. Everything seemed to have become bleak. Still trying to date the day things went west, she was standing in front of the seven inch mirror wearing a black bra and a pair of blue jeans. Her hair which had just been blow dried, her lean body, her pale white skin – her head tilted sideways, to the left and to the right as her eyes scrutinized her body. Not only did she look different, she felt different. Her fingers trailed her stomach to her side; to the scar left by the bullet that was taken out. Turns out, leaving Robert's house did not stop those nightmares. They kept happening anytime and every time her eyes fluttered close, even for just a moment. She was always reliving the moment her entire life flashed in front of her; the pistol that was pointed to her face making her entire body tremble for fear that any moment, the trigger will be pulled, and when she was shot, the bullet that pierced