‘Norman’s here,’ she heard Nora’s calm voice behind her.
‘Famous author. My husband,’ thought Lisa with some affection.
The couple graciously obliged the frenzied photographers.
Lisa smiled as he sat next to her, watching the distant Kowloon skyline.
‘Hmm. I gotta check on that pasta,’ muttered Nora, adjusting the shoulder-strap so Norman could be comfortable.
Having two heads and one body was complicated.
The beach lights were colorful twinkling specks down below, she could no longer hear the music.
She blinked, trying to see his face behind the wispy night clouds.
Blue eyes. Curly mop of brown hair.
‘Hmm, so Mr. Moon is a tall handsome romance-novel hunk! Wait till the girls find out!’
She floated free as she weightlessly exited the Earth’s atmosphere.
The old man whistled a cheerful tune as he gathered up tiny purple balloon bits strewn across the sand. He looked up at the clear morning sky, shielding his eyes against the sun.
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He was strong, kind, sensitive.
‘You don’t deserve him. Make him hate you’
Her inner demons came alive, he held her close.
She picked up her cellphone.
Cruel words imprinted forever on a chat window.
His eyes were empty.
Her wounds bled again.
Picture Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
He wiped the knife clean.
A manic look in his eyes. Closure. Finally.
Next morning, he confessed.
“Darling, I finished the cheesecake.”
His cellphone buzzed. Unknown Caller.
Distorted voice. Timothy shivered.
“Timmy? It’s late. Dinner’s getting cold,” said Mom.
“Help!!” he cried.
A Praying Mantis slept on his bed. Not Girl in Green Dress.
“These dang glasses. Time I replaced them.”
“Irreparable damage, poor thing,” they murmured kindly.
She remained stoic. She knew she would heal. Slowly.
A bad haircut always grows out.