BREAKING STORM
" I heard his voice far away. He was back, and he was looking for me. He sounded desperate and stressed, but I was broke, so instead of making my whereabouts known, I chose to cuddle in the blankets and hide.
Yes, I know, not my best moment.
Minutes later, the room's locked door opened, and his heavy steps walked into my fortress of solitude. "There you are..." He sighed, and I felt the bed dip under his weight. I trembled and sobbed silently under the blanket.
"Little Flower... we need to talk," he said, and I held my breath. This was not a good sign. Don't all breakups start with that horrible phrase?
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