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A Lover’s Hate
Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make. — Euripides ~•~ AMANDA Time was speedily running by, yet Robert and his date were nowhere to be seen. What the hell was keeping them? I gripped my wine glass so tightly it almost shattered. They were supposed to arrive an hour ago, according to my watch. The masked ball had begun already. The evening had been busy, with wealthy socialites milling about, talking, and dining while most of the activities set aside for the ball had taken place. Charity donations and auctions which were the party’s main event had finished. Most people in attendance were making their way to the exits. Yet still, the man of the show—or my show—was nowhere to be found. So, where in the world were they? Had they decide
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