Clara
I exhaled a plume of smoke into the night air, leaning against the balcony railing as my gaze drifted upward to the dark canvas of the sky. The phone remained clutched in my other hand as I flicked the ash from my cigarette into the waiting ashtray.
Stress was never a good thing for me— a relentless adversary that always seemed to have the upper hand. I neither had the option to retreat nor the freedom to move forward.
I attempted to call Samuel, but my man had abandoned his phone in the room. His original mission was a simple one: fetch two beer bottles from the kitchen. Yet, judging by the time that had elapsed, it was evident— he was a full-blown adventure.
The beer though, was a feeble attempt of mine to divert his thoughts. He was much more interested in thwarting
