It must have been raining for the last two days. The storm is still growing strong, and just couldn't stand staying alone in my appartment up the street. Why hasn't she called back?
It's still rather early, but my mind needs to think about something else. At least, it's always warm at the Midnight. I notice most of the usuals, but I also see a new face. I realize that I'm usually the quiet type. There's something soothing in watching a place being alive. Today, I feel different. She still hasn't called back.
I join in a conversation with teacup and the bartender. I tried to resist the urge of alcohol, but I couldn't resist something strong to warm my spirit. After a while, teacup had to leave to catch the train. Train. She still hasn't called back.
Shall I write to her?
And to tell her what?