Romans & histoires Por Siempre

Unbreakable. Forever.

The tiny, folded slip of paper , Ethan Grant’s phone number , had become my personal religion. For fourteen agonizing days, it had lived tucked deep inside the stitching of my uniform apron, a burning coal against my skin. Two weeks. I had survived two weeks of perfect silence, two weeks of scrubbing floors and polishing secrets, pretending the warm pressure of his lips on my cheek had been nothing but a fever dream.

Again. Always.

Not broken. But whole. Forever.

Waiting for the next take. Forever.

Rising still. Always.

Goodbye. And never again.

Not now, not ever. ***

Anything. Nothing.