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Then, she lazily stretched her stiff joints from her sleeping position, hoping to untie the knots in her slightly sore muscles. Suddenly, she sat up, remembering something.

“Aaahhh!” She shouted, trying to wake herself up as memories rushed into her head like a waterfall.

She thought that could not be real as she checked her bed for any signs. The other side of her bed was crumpled, but that could be her doing.

If it was a dream, she wished she did not open her eyes and had remained trapped in her fantasy. However, if it had happened, she still did not want to wake up because she could not face what she had done.

“No, no, no.” She kept telling herself. “Nothing happened last night.” She punched her pillow. Then, she pulled it over her head to drown her thoughts. However, her mind kept insisting that she knew the truth.

She quickly marched outside her room to get some caffeine in her system. She would think better if her blood was not running cold in her veins.

.....

After setting up the coffee, she sat down on the stool of her kitchen counter. That was where she found a piece of paper underneath her phone.

She did remember leaving her phone in the kitchen. Then, she cut her thoughts off, not wanting to relive the night as her mind delved into her memories.

“What is this?” She wondered as she pulled the white note out and opened it from its fold.

Nothing.

The paper was blank.

It was not entirely blank since it was her last bill, but no handwritten note or anything as she checked both sides of the sheet. If this was a joke for him, she did not find it funny.

She crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. Then, she took the coffee she had prepared and moved to the balcony of her apartment.

She liked drinking her coffee as she gazed at the morning sun. She never ate breakfast much anyway since she was always rushing into work. But not today.

“Move my early schedules for later. I will be running late.” She instructed her secretary.

She knew she had a few things she needed to deal with first before going back to work today. She quickly ended the call after giving her a few more instructions.

Then, she decided to check all her e-mails and messages. Fortunately, there were no missed calls. She usually started with the oldest one, going through it one by one until she reached the latest.

“Interesting.” Her last text came from him, which was early this morning. She wondered what it said.

She tapped on the screen and opened the messaging app. She was doubtful she was moved by the short and touching piece of crap she read in bold letters.

I WAS LOOKING FOR A PEN SO I COULD LEAVE YOU A NOTE, BUT THERE WAS NONE.

I HOPE YOU WILL NOT WRITE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. BETTER YET, I HOPE YOU WILL FORGET ABOUT IT.

IT WAS NOT A MISTAKE BECAUSE I KNEW WE BOTH WANTED IT. BUT IT SHOULD NOT HAPPEN.

I AM SORRY.

I AM.

I TRULY AM.

BUT I THINK YOU SHOULD NOT TRY TO CONTACT ME ANYMORE. I HOPE WHAT I TOLD YOU WILL BE MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR A GOOD STORY.

“Damn!” He could write a shitty love note, she thought.

She stared again at the screen, rereading it one last time. What did she expect from a man like him? That he would be different from the rest of them.

At least this one said that it was not a mistake, and he did apologize. It was more than the other men she had been with had ever done for her.

She was not expecting to wake up with him still entangled in the sheets or find him in the kitchen making her breakfast. She did not do relationships. She reminded herself.

She decided it was better to keep her mind busy. Dwelling on something she had no control over would not do her any good. At least she did not have to deal with a guilty conscience of doing the deed with a client. It was unprofessional and morally wrong in her list of things she should never do.

“You want it forgotten. Then I will.” She closed the message, not planning on answering him back. Then, she shut her eyes tight, trying to bury those memories in her mind. Never to be resurrected again.

After a few minutes of deep breathing and meditation, she knew she felt calmer. She could safely say that she could go back to working again.

She grabbed the phone again and went to her small office, just a tiny guest room she converted into an office. She believed it was the only thing she had changed in this house since she bought it.

She grabbed her laptop and fired it up, then took her phone to check on her recordings. Although she knew most of what they had talked about last night. She might have forgotten a few details.

“I hope your story was worth all the trouble.” She mumbled to herself. It was a habit she acquired since she started writing narratives. She believed talking to herself while typing made her report flow more easily.

She kept her fingers on the keyboard as it started flying away, tapping on each word as she slowly built the direction and angle of the news she would be presenting.

She would have liked a face-to-face interview with him. But now, she could not ask him to sit down with her. She might also feel awkward asking questions like what she asked last night if she would do it on a live telecast.

“So far, so good,” She patted herself on the back as her fingers fell the soreness after almost an hour of continuous typing. She pulled her hands away from the keyboard and started massaging it.

After a few more minutes, she was out of things to write. She was drawing a blank as her mind had a mental block. Luckily, she had recorded their interview. She believed she might have missed something.

She played the recordings and listened carefully to their conversation. She did pick up a few things she could add to the story, but nothing quite significant.

She believed she had remembered most of what she needed anyway as the tape continued to play. It had been a long voice recording as she checked the time on her phone.

She was about to turn the recorder off when her bell rang. She quickly stood up to answer it. Surprisingly, she had an unexpected guest waiting for her at the door.

“Amelia, when did you come home?” She showed her inside before closing the door.

“I arrived the other day. I want to check on an old friend.” Amelia answered her, greeting her with a hug.

“Let us go to my office. So, we can talk some more.” She offered, happy to see a very dear friend.

“Wait, why don’t you go ahead while I prepare a coffee for you.” Her friend went ahead while she worked on the coffee.

She was uncomfortable entertaining her friend in the kitchen or the living room, still recalling what happened there. It would appear she could not easily forget the memory.

But she was shocked at what she witnessed next when she entered her office. It was more about what she heard in the recording that her friend was listening to at that very moment.

Moans.