She lies alone in her bed, reaching her pillows while staring at her phone. In it was a message - a message that a lot of people had been wanting to receive, had been dying to get. It was a message that caused her to smile for so long. She knew it. Finally. The feeling is mutual.
She touches herself, bit by bit. Nobody knew what was going on, what was between them, what they were doing on the night her parents left for Macau. She herself cannot confirm such feelings then. To her it was not odd, but rather it was peculiar. She was uncertain of what it really was, of why it was happening, of how it was occuring to her. She then feels her own lips with her fingers.
She pants slowly. She takes every breath, every part of that beautiful memory, into her as if nothing else would come next. She closes her eyes and tries to visualize that night.
It was dark in the room with only the light of the laptop screen flickering across the two faces that are in front of it, one staring closely at the screen and the other gazing at her.
“Stacey, what are you looking at? Something in my face?”
Stacey grips Anne’s face with both hands. She brings it near hers. It was a combination of sudden and slow. They both look into each other’s eyes until they close their eyelids at the same time. Stacey places her lips on Anne’s. Anne for a second opens her eyes in surprise. She closes it again and savors the moment, as Stacey’s fingers travel across Anne’s body.
Suddenly, Anne pushes Stacey away from her. It was done. She realized it when it was late. She pushed Stacey even more, putting the latter in a state of shock, then she fled the room and fled the house.
Her fantasy ended when her phone rang. One message from Anne. She impatiently opens it.
“Oh, I’m sorry. The message wasn’t for you. Please don’t take it seriously. It’ll never happen again.”
It was wrong. The feeling was false. It wasn’t mutual at all.
She gets up in bed. She grabs the blade that rested in her table.
The lights went off.