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Damson tried his best to relax in his La-Z-Boy recliner with Scandal playing quietly on the living room TV. He had on gray sweats and a white tank, one arm propped up on the chair’s arm as his hand massaged his temple. Resting on his thigh, in his other hand, was a splash of Jack in a highball glass with a single ice cube. Josephine, his wife, always managed to make the ice super clear. He had no idea how she did it, but she got it done each time. He was convinced she used to be a bartender based off how mean she makes an Old-Fashioned, but she always denied it. It was his wife that had him distracted right now. He watched her attentively, obviously in her own world. She had a smile so delicately on her lips, you’d miss it if you weren’t analyzing her like Damson was.
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She seemed quieter during dinner. But this was the happiest he’s seen her in the past few days. But then again, he was so busy with his own life, this was the first time he’s paid attention to her so carefully, yet, impatiently. If he was standing near the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, he would see she wasn’t actually washing dishes. She may have thought she was, but whatever (or whoever) was on her mind, had her swirling a dishrag damn near slow motion, over the same plate. The bubbles just about gone, and the water developing a chill. She tilted her head to the side dreamily, her layered blowout covering half her face for a second; her smile becoming more perceptible.
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This stirred something up and Damson; something fierce. But he didn’t really have the right to feel… whatever he wants to call it. He, himself, probably didn’t understand what he was currently feeling to be perfectly frank with you. You see…Damson made a very riveting discovery on his way to work last week.
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Josephine had woke up earlier than usual, and made his favorite breakfast. He got up in a rush, saying he didn’t have time to eat, but to save it for later. He had a meeting to get to first thing at the office and needed to get some papers reviewed and printed in time. Something about his assistant not doing their job. Truth is, it was a slow day. He had a meeting, but not a morning one. He just wanted to get an early start on some later work and planned on leaving work earlier than usual; so the earlier he went in, the better.
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He kissed her forehead, quickly scooped up the folders and binders off the table, and left. Josephine sighed, after standing at the stove with quiet and calculating anger. She turned the stove off, leaving everything right where it was, and crawled back into bed. She worked as a call-center representative, and have been for a solid year now. Switching from office to remote working seemed more suitable for her; mentally.
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Dissatisfied with what felt like everything, she slipped back into slumber, being sure her 12 alarms were set beforehand. She hated mornings. She envied Damson’s ability to beat the sun waking up and be chipper than a kid who just won their first goldfish at a county fair. For a month, she seemed to have been on the road to being a lark herself , but turns out, it was insomnia. Luckily, she was back to sleeping through the night. And day naps were her new best friend.
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Damson looked at his watch and realized he had enough time to stop at Vibe Nutrition Bar for a protein pick-me-up. He studied the menu to get something different this time, just to settle with the same Reese’s protein shake. There were three cars ahead of him so he decided to twiddle his thumbs. He looked over at the scattered binders in his passenger seat and saw an unfamiliar black book wedged in between his things. Nothing was written on the spine, but when he pulled it all the way out, the front said “Thoughts” with a seemingly dying rose embroidered just below it. He opened it and saw the first thing was a written date.
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May 3rd, 2024.
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It was Josephine‘s handwriting. And this was her journal. Damson would’ve closed it back up and tossed it on the seat, but he saw his name. He respected her privacy and never had a reason to snoop, but he saw his name.
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Damson has been acting different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he seems “off”. I’ve noticed it around April. Late April. I want to ask him what’s wrong but we’re never in the same room long enough. I’m going to keep an eye on his well-being. I think he’s working too hard, maybe. I’m not sure what all they do at the IT company but I do believe they have quotas to meet, so maybe something along those lines.
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Damson exhaled, looking up from the book for a second. His curiosity was piqued. But he also dreaded going on.
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May 6, 2024
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I’m praying that he’s okay. He really seems different. And distant. He just doesn’t seem “interested” in me anymore. When I ask him if he’s okay, he has his frown on his face like I asked a question in a foreign language or something. Maybe I’m being overbearing on top of him being slammed at work. I’m not sure what’s come over me, but I’ve wanted him so bad the past couple weeks. This is the first time I have ever been afraid to initiate sex with him. He still kisses me from time to time, but it feels forced. Like, he’s doing it to keep up appearances. I love Damson, I really do, so I have a lot of guilt thinking about him this way. I just… I don’t know what to do from here. Maybe there’s really nothing to do. Just a wait-and-see game.
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Damson slapped the page over. His eyes lowered and the corners of his mouth started to droop with the expected, mixed with the unknown.
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May 10th, 2024
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I think there’s someone else.
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Just those three words alone made Damson’s heart sink a little. And then he nearly jumped out of his skin when the car horn ,behind him, beeped. Damson let out a breathy-exhale as he realized cars were no longer in front of him.
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The Reese‘s fat burner shake sat untouched in the cupholder, as Damson clammy palms gripped the steering wheel the best they could. His watch thought he was working out all the way to work. He had lost all appetite, his only interest was getting back to that book. Any red lights had him reaching for it, just to tell himself “no, not yet”.
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The last entry being “I think there’s someone else” and nothing more on that page had him scrambling to know what came next. He felt like his heart was in an action packed movie, while his demeanor was anything less than fidgety. The radio was turned low, his eyes, dead, and straight ahead. But his teeth chipping away at his thumbnail. “Nasty habit to have”, he tsked himself. He took a few deep breathes and turned on his cooling seats. He didn’t break a sweat but he was definitely… feverish.
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You see, Damson was losing his shit because there was in fact someone else.
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It was first day of Spring (March 19th to be exact), when a fiery brunette less than half his weight and size entered his office. Her hair was straightened with her ends curled upward. She wore a pretty white sundress with roses; that didn’t leave much to the imagination when it came to length. She had smirked devilishly when Damson looked up from his papers but stared long enough before speaking. She knew right then and there she had him. “Can I help you?” “Yes.” She said softly, a hint of Spanish accent in there. She sat down in one of the leather eggs chairs across from him. He looked at his open door, employees pacing back and forth and papers falling. You would’ve thought it was Y2K again. “You have an appointment?” “No.” “How’d you get back here?” He asked, now confused. “It’s super busy out there so I just went to the first open door that had someone in it.” Her voice matching her petite frame to the tee. “Okay what’s the issue?” He rubbed his eyes, annoyed. “To make a long story short, I broke up with a guy. Now I’m locked out of my accounts. And I don’t want to go to the police.” She smiled, showing a bit of teeth. “So what you’re saying is, you want a VPN?” “What’s that?” “Virtual Private Network. It protects your online data and , history , and gives you a fake location. You could say you’re in…” he swirled his hands around to think for a second. “…Amsterdam. But really you’re at the Starbucks up the street.” She giggled a little. Tiredness and annoyance seemed to be written all over his face. He had shitty coffee that morning and hadn’t realized he was all out of tea. “That sounds perfect.” “Okay, we have 3 separate plans. I’m going to explain each one to you and you decide what’s best for you.” She nodded with her doe eyes burning into his.
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After going over the plans, he activated the system for her (after she created a password), and he then sent her on her way. He could feel her staring at him, but he chose to keep it moving back to his office. On his way back, he passed Bryce; the only other senior associate on his floor besides himself. He was in his office, reclined back in his seat with his feet kicked up. Literally. “Hey…” Damson said with a knock, grabbing Bryce’s attention. “…where you been?” He asked out of curiosity. “I haven’t left my office since I clocked in.” Now it was Damson’s turn to be confused. “We just had someone come back here. Said I was the first person with an open door that had someone in it. “ Damson brought this up since Bryce himself suggested in a meeting , that they should have their doors open more often instead of locked away. That way the newer (and less skilled) employees felt more comfortable to come to the seniors for help on projects.
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Damson rolled his eyes at this suggestion, because really… who gives a shit? This was supposed to be a “see, told ya” moment for Damson, but changed when Bryce added, “My door has been opened since this morning. When was this?” “30 minutes ago?” “Yeah, no. I’ve been here. I’ve been finalizing some things for that new project we’re releasing next month.” “Hm.” Damson said. “Did they give you some trouble?” Bryce arched an eyebrow. “Nah…” Damson shook his head with a pouted lip “…not at all. Just trying to keep the customer service in tip top shape.” he gave a shit-eating grin before exiting and going back in his office. Shutting the door this time.
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It was definitely one of those days. One he wanted to crawl back into bed and snuggle up to Josephine. The smell of vanilla radiating off her skin, or the faint smell of Jasmine against her coils; which was one of his favorite places to bury his face. She smells so good and felt so soft. Like a cloud. Since she worked from home, a lot of her filler time was spent crafting different soaps, body oils, butters, hair oils; the works! Once she found out how to do her own blowouts, she became unstoppable. He recalled her sleeping in these clunky rollers, and the next day when he came home from work, she ran up to him in a satin night shirt, layers of hair galloping around her head like butterfly wings. She had this goofy grin on her face, and she threw her arms around his torso. “Wow…” Damson’s eyes were mesmerized by the shoulder length of dark brown hair and the movement of it without much effort. “…you look like Clair Huxtable.” They both laughed. He placed the whole palm of his hand on her head as he leaned into the hug. “Oh, straight to the scalp? No need to dig through a jungle of hair? Put it back.” Seeing the strands of hair sliding through his fingers, instinctively had him locking his grip around them and pulling her head back to look up at him. “You sure you want me to wet it now?” She whispered with a cunning smile. “We’ll see.” He whispered back, kissing her forehead, her nose, and then her lips.
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He was drifting away on his desk until his phone buzzed. Josephine: 3 attachments. Hurriedly, he opened it, excited for a pick-me-up. It was definitely a pick-me-up, but not what he was originally thinking. In a way it was better. One picture was the meat section at a grocery store. Whole Foods. Grass-fed beef. The second picture was scattered ingredients in a cart. Romaine lettuce. Croutons, garlic and herb. Red wine vinegar. Grey Poupon. She’s making one of his favorite dinners. Steak and Cesar salad. The third picture, he immediately swiped to, not caring about the rest of the ingredients when he noticed what message she was sending him. He quickly hearted the third one, grinning ear to ear. It was a green tin can. Harney&Son’s. Green Tea. 30 Packets. She knew him so well. He spent the better part of the hour texting her, and getting zero work done.
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It was two days later, when Damson received an email on his work computer. It was Emily. She must’ve taken one of his business card off his desk when he wasn’t paying attention. Whenever that was. She was personally thanking him for helping her, despite not having an appointment. Damson hesitated on replying, conflicted on what she actually wanted. It had only been two days. Why didn’t she wait a couple weeks to see if her situation improved? “My pleasure. Please leave a review on the company’s website. Enjoy your weekend.” “Will do.” She replied with a winky emoji. He ignored it.
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That was the last of her.
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It was Friday, April 12th. Carter, Damson’s roomie and best friend from college, invited him out to the club. Damson would’ve declined if it was anyone else, but he hadn’t seen his party animal friend in months. He was truly the life of the party. Damson smiled at Josephine‘s scrunched face. When she was focused, she looked a little crazy, he couldn’t help letting out a little giggle every time. She was such a perfectionist, although she denied it. Always. He sat in the mirror in a cream-colored button-up and navy blue slacks; her vanity stool more comfortable than it looked. She swirled a foam sponge around his hair, until it was her desired definition. She sprayed it with a softening oil, and finally expressed her signature self-effacing grin. “There. All done.” He stood up, getting a closer look before gloating about her work. He stared at her a bit, her eyes lowered. She was tired. Exhausted even. “You’re tired baby?“ He wrapped his forearm around her waist, being sure to grab a handful before rubbing it soothingly. She nodded, as if she felt guilty for being tired before midnight. Naturally, she was a night owl. “Get you some rest, I’ll be back in a couple hours.” She moved against his forehead kiss. Those were her favorite. They made her feel safe and secure.
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Damson’s main focus was showing up, and just as quickly getting back home. He was tired himself. He yo-yo’ed the idea of driving since he wasn’t planning to drink much of anything, or, calling an Uber in case he did drink over his limit. They lived on the outskirts of Dallas (reference: 2101 Helmsford Drive, Flowermound, Tx 75028), which was a good 36min drive from where he was headed. He decided to take his Mercedes. Of course. He truly had a love for driving, especially at night. There was something peaceful about it despite the traffic, especially on a Friday night heading towards downtown.
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He pulled up to It’ll Do Club, the music blaring and going muffled each time someone ran in. The nostalgic feeling of “free” filled his veins as he exited his car; seeing Carter’s Jaguar Super Sedan lights turn off. They gave each other the strongest bro-hug before Carter dragged him inside by the shoulders. It was halfway through the night, where the shift began. Damson was at the bar, getting a refreshment, when a sultry “hey you” filled his ear cavity. Damson felt his mouth go dry. Emily was standing there, her hands claps together, pushing her moderately small breast together. She wore a red spaghetti strap dress with a lettuce trimming that stopped mid-thigh, her makeup was darker this time. Wicked. “How have you been?” She asked, leaning on the counter. “Good. Good.” His fingers tapped the counter, waiting on his drink. “We’re not allowed to talk?“ She teased, smiling. “Huh?” he couldn’t help but have an appalled expression. “You act like you can’t look at me or something.“ Her tone lowered. He turned, staring at her, her staring back at him. After a moment, he shrugs and says “See?“
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The bartender, sits his drink down in front of him. “How’s your little situation going?” he stifled a chuckle. “Oh, that’s funny?” She giggled with “fuck you” in her teeth. “No, not at all.” He shook his head with closed eyes, wishing he had called it quits half an hour ago. “Well it was going great until I posted my current location on my public story instead of my friends only.” She shook her head. “You’re trying to get caught.” He said matter-of-factly as he stared straight ahead at the mirror across from the bar. He looked old. Older since he stepped out. It had been what felt like ages since he’s partied this hard. The past three years has been mostly home-cooked meals with the missus. He doesn’t remember Emily‘s response, since the last thing he remembered was being dragged from his barstool by Carter to dance to a song from their college days.
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Pure nostalgia.
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It wasn’t until close to 1am when both Damson and Carter decided to go home. While Carter was busy talking security’s head off about something he probably tells every stranger he meets; Emily approaches Damson one more time. She seemed accurately uncomfortable. Damson had sobered up a bit by this point; now he was just tired. And oddly hyper aware of somethings. “You okay?” “Yes. Can you walk me home, I’m staying up the street. The Joule.” She said with a little urgency. He looked around. There was a guy with a buzz cut standing across the street with a group of people who seemed to be enraptured in drunken conversation. He only stood out because he seemed so out of place. His hands in his pocket, a funky look on his face, and the fact he was staring right at Damson and Emily. He was standing next to the group, just enough where he didn’t seem to be actually be with them. It’s like he wanted to be seen. But not much intimidated Damson. When he realized that, the guy completely turned away, his back now to them. “Okay…” he sighed “ I got to make it back in time before they close. I’m his ride.“ Damson lied. And this wouldn’t be the last and only time.
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The Joule (1530 Main St, Dallas, Tx 75201)
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It was beautiful and still full of life in the lobby and patio. And it smelled amazing in there. “I’ve never actually stayed here. I always wanted to.” Damson said, and it was actually the truth. He wanted to do a staycation with Josephine someday soon and this was the number one choice for him. Especially because of the spa. “You should see the rooms. They’re gorgeous. Want to see mine? Emily asked, “Yeah, why not.” He shrugged, a lazy look of appeal on his face.
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It was in the elevator when that little voice started to speak to him. He felt like he was taking his curiosity a bit too far. But he also felt like it was too late to turn back. “It would be weird if I suddenly declined halfway up to the room?“
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Oh, who gives a shit.
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He was regretting so much at this moment, because he knew once he seen the bed, he’d possibly give in to temptation. If he hadn’t opened or responded to her email. If you hadn’t been curious enough to click the review she left on their page. Admiring her picture of choice. And taking it a step further and plugging her name into Facebook, and seeing so much more of her; maybe he wouldn’t be so curious right now. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t obsessed. He dove into a rabbit hole of Emily in one night, and that was enough for him. Every part of her was embedded in his skull like braille.
He didn’t give in though. At least not on his own; independently. Just before he bid her goodbye, Emily‘s own curiosity piqued. She looked at him with the most serious face ever, and asked “Can I see it?“ after some moments of swaying, side to side, pondering, Damson obliged.
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And you know it hardly ever stops there.
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It was nearing 230 when he came stumbling out of The Joule. Back outside and up the street towards the club. The whole 8-minute walk felt a lot shorter, than it was getting there. He stared into nothingness, his heart still beating in his ears. There were still a few cars left, but it felt mostly deserted. He felt so alone right now. Like no one else was existing on the same planet as him. He felt disgusted but elation overrode all of that.
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“Yo!” Damson blinked out of his little world of daydreams about the literal workout he just did.
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It was Carter. He was smoking a cigar, posted up against his car with his legs crossed. Carter gave off a 1950s rebel persona at times. “Where were you? I saw your car and knew you were still around? I called you.” Damson reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his phone. Sure enough,missed calls and texts. “My bad man I walked a friend nearby, but I got caught up in conversation, you know how it be.“ Damson forced a smile. “You good man?“ Carter’s tone relieved, but still serious. “Y-yeah…“ Damson said. “… get home safe. Text me.“
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Carter knew Damson.
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Something wasn’t right.
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Josephine had sent him a text at midnight
“Get home safe. I’m in bed now.”
Followed by sleepy emojis.
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Reality was setting in on his drive back home. It was one of those rides when you have the radio on mute, while you are with your thoughts; so your body gets you there by muscle memory.
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He removed his clothes and dropped them in the open washer and tiptoe to the bedroom. This luckily wasn’t out of the ordinary since Josephine liked their household to be a “No Outside Clothes Permitted Here and Here” approach.
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Josephine was soundly asleep when he went into the bathroom. Soundly, indeed. She was obviously exhausted. Damson showered quickly, even washing his hair just in case. In case it didn’t smell like…like him.
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Remembering that he always had to shower after partying with Carter, he fully relaxed now. He was finally glad to be back home, back where he felt like he belonged. Where he should have been earlier.
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He lifted up the stinging cold satin sheets, slid in, and pulled her close; her bare body toasty, and inviting. In her slumber, she instinctively sunk into him, releasing a long sigh of contentment. Safety. He frowned a bit, his actions closing in on him, but tiredness was his saving grace.
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(End of Flashback)
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Damson had never been happier to finally be at work. He snatched the shake from his holder, threw his messenger bag over his shoulder, and hurried inside. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, as he rapidly tapped the “close door” button. He had ran into three people on the way to his office, all stopping to chat. It was small talk, but any second spent standing anywhere that wasn’t his office, felt like it required a lot of effort to follow along.
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Luckily, but ironically, Bryce’s door was closed.
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Damson needed some time to himself before the lunch meeting. He pulled the binders out of his bag, the black journal with the rose on it, looking more dead than before. He took a breather, staring out of the window with his hands clasp behind him. Once his heart finally felt normal again, he confronted the journal. He tried to flip through without seeing that entry again, but he knew he had to read it in order to keep track.
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There were a few pages that were mainly rambling about her recent updates (Damson, wishing she’d use a activity log, instead of causing him to think it was something more important; about him) and pointless things like updating family photos and going to visit her parents.
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May 21st, 2024
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I think I’ll bake something. I heard it was National Baking Day.
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Damson was teleported back to this day. He remembered it so vividly. How could he not? He hadn’t heard from her all day, and when he arrived home, it was like a bake-off in there. No “real food” in sight.
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Pecan pies, three ways. A sunken molten lava cake. Chocolate chip cookies. Banana loaves. Cornbread, two way. And Damson’s absolute favorite, Apple crumble. He just about lost his mind when he noticed a sticky toffee pudding being pulled out of the oven. She looked like a housewife from the 40s, in her floral apron and her hair in a similar fashion. She almost looked as if she was in character for a movie role. “How was your day?“ Damson asked, looking at the empty Kodiak Cake boxes, and dirty utensils everywhere. “It was great. And yours?“ She said as she iced some cupcakes. “They were for the neighbors“ she had later told him. “Eh…” Damson shrugged. “…it was decent. Can’t complain.” He picked up a cookie and smashed it within seconds. The chocolate was dark but the perfect percentage. He talked his way around the kitchen until he made it over to her. He stood at the island where she was, waiting for visual acknowledgment but it never came.
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He stood there, speaking to her, the entire time, and she was sure to respond accordingly. But eye contact, she did not. Not even for a second. He figured she was just in a mood and looking for little things to distract herself with. She seemed flustered, but calm at the same time. He shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing. She had these moments before, coming to him later after the physical exhaustion had finally showed up. But she never came to him. Not this time.
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Now reading this, he feels like she purposely stayed busy to avoid eye contact with him. He clearly remembered leaning forward a bit to escape her peripheral and more into her line of sight. But she kept her deadpan stare on the chocolate cupcake she was putting purple icing on to look like marigolds. She was doing a shit-job but it’s the thought that counts, right?
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“She was just really focused, that’s all.” He told himself.
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June 1st, 2024
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I want to say something.
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That familiar feeling in his chest was back again. But that feeling shifted to his head when he flipped and saw an empty page. He flipped again to make sure she hadn’t mistakenly skipped the page. Nothing. He even started flipping it like a kineograph. Looking like a junkie feening for more private epiphanies.
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Nothing.
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That was June 14. She hadn’t written a journal entry for 20 days. The Fourth of July had came and went. She seemed fine at the party (that Carter had invited them to), minus those random moments where he’d catch her staring into nothingness. But nothing out of the ordinary. She did that anyways, but she seemed obviously bothered in some way.
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She has wanted to say something for almost a month now, and has been unforthcoming with anything.
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And suddenly she’s happy. Seemingly, anyways.
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Her phone buzz, snapping her back into reality. She dried her hands and unlocked her phone. After a few seconds, she began smiling to herself as she twisted her necklace back and forth; obviously pondering her response. She began texting back, whoever, walking lazily down the hall with her eyes glued to the screen.
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This boiled Damson up inside. But what did he really have to be upset about? He was in a full fledge affair. Hundreds of dollars deep. He has seen Emily countless times since their first encounter. Sometimes twice a week.
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From Crowne Plazas to Sheratons, she was never more than 35 miles away, or closer than 15 minutes. The closest he’s ever met up with her was 22 minutes away, in Frisco. The Westin Dallas Stonebriar Golf. Believe it or not, this was the cheapest room he’s bought so far. He had checked in, making sure everything was in order before he’d leave her an envelope for her to “pick out something nice“; and she always did. She tailored herself to his fitting when it came to lingerie and perfumes. Yes, the expensive ones.
He’d leave home towards work later than usual (early lunchtime), and check into the room. He would stop by after she’d tell him she had made it. He would go straight to Atlas Gym after seeing her, showering, and getting back to work until it was time for him to go home. Sometimes, stopping by before home, ready to ravish her. The afternoon teaser being just that, a teaser. She never seemed close enough when he craved her the most. He wanted to spend days with her, but that would be impossible. Maybe.
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The last image of Emily, being a picture of her in a Fourth of July bikini, holding up the peace sign. Her soft brown curls lightening up from the sun exposure. He quickly slapped a heart on it.
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Speaking of the devil, Emily popped up on his screen; a text. She hadn’t seen him in almost 2 weeks. They made plans July 3rd after work last week, but that’s when he discovered the journal he had accidentally taken. So, he canceled. He still wanted Emily, but his sex drive had hit a sudden brick wall.
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Emily was different tonight. She was…begging. Telling him how much he was needed, not wanted. He felt like a God. Seriously. The feen was pouring out of him as he read the texts. And missed opportunities always seem to fuel it even more. He was going to tell her no, the feeling of distain filling his belly. Swirling around like a sack of serpents. He obviously despised this abdominal sensation. But when she texted: “No business. Just fun” with that winky emoji she loves so much, he was reconsidering. Hearing Josephine‘s cackle from the bedroom was enough for him to start looking for his keys.
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He was a solid 1/2 hour from the locale Emily sent him.
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“I’ll be back.” he said, poking his head into the frame of the bathroom. It was near 8pm, he had been off work for 4 hours at this point. Now leaving suddenly in the middle of the night, with zero detail of where he was going? Must be cabin fever. He always gave details if he left anywhere. He felt like he was getting sloppy. Like, he was making it apparent now.
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Josephine was sitting on her vanity stool, running a bath. This was her new comfort. Water was her solace. And so was the essential oils, creamy soaps, and flower petals she added for visual purposes. “Okay” was all she said, doing that thing again where she didn’t acknowledge him. He lingered a bit. “Do you want me to pick you up anything?“ He kicked himself in the ass. What if she said “where are you going” in order to make a decision. She always been a very precise person in her requests. Name a place and she has an entire order together in seconds.
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“No. I’m all good.“ He felt disappointed. Relieved, but disappointed. “You sure?“ he arched a brow. Finally, she looked at him. He felt off. Like suddenly, he didn’t want her looking for more than a second. He felt… analyzed. “It’s late. Get back safely.“ She continues, staring him, slight smile (obviously a bit annoyed) until he took his leave. He exhaled as he got in the car, hesitating, his guilt always peeking around the corner. But Emily’s bare body was always his amnesia.
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-End of Chapter-
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