Ignite me (A collection of Short Stories)
But at what fucking cost?
I toss and turn for hours, checking my phone every twenty minutes—2:17 A.M., 3:04, 4:12. The sky finally starts to lighten around six and I give up. Drag myself to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face until my cheeks stop looking so flushed. In the mirror I look exactly like what I am; someone who got fucked good and hard and is now panicking. My lips are puffy, eyes too shiny, hair a total disaster. I practice my normal face—small smile, casual nod—but it feels fake as hell, like the mask is already cracking.
When I get downstairs, as expected, Jane’s already up, humming some pop song in her robe, hair all messy cute as she sets out mugs. She glances up and h