Maya
I looked at the clock hanging on the wall and then, for the hundredth time, at the phone in my pocket, and found the text box empty, again. I put the phone in my pocket with a sigh.
It had been two weeks, fourteen days, since the night Nate and I had spent together, since the last time I had seen and heard from him.
From that day on, he was completely off the grid.
He didn’t call me. He didn’t look for me. He didn’t come to my house.
The next day, I had waited for him until 1 a.m, I had spent the whole afternoon shaving, I had wrinkled my whole body, I had settled home, changed the sheets, take extra food, but he had never shown up.
Why I cared so much I didn’t know. But I couldn’t help feeling disappointed every time I looked at my phone and didn’t find any messages from him.
