The slightly crumpled piece of paper lay in her desk drawer alongside her resignation letter. I picked it up, and something told me it was meant for me. Suddenly, an old childhood game came to mindplaying spies with the lads, passing secret notes written in lemon juice or milk, using toothpicks or cotton buds as pens. Holding the paper over a gas hob would reveal the hidden message. Lisa and I had even joked about those silly games once.
Barely waiting for lunch break, I rushed home and, like a lovestruck schoolboy, fumbled with trembling hands over the stove. And I was rightIm always right! It *was* her letter. Shes just as mad as me.
*”If youre reading this, I wasnt wrong about you,”* Lisa had written. *”You worked out what to do with this paper. Things couldve been different. But humiliating me? You destroyed everything I ever felt for you. I think you even enjoyed it. Maybe thats all youre capable of. Just because youve been hurt doesnt mean you get to mock those who wont fight back. Did you really think I couldnt have repaid you in kind? But that wouldnt be me. You can win a battle and still lose the war. Dont look for me. Goodbye.”*
*Why?* I keep asking myself. *Why did I hate her so terribly, so fiercely?*
Then she walked inlike sunlight, moonlight, the scent of the sea, and the sound of waves all bottled up. Birds burst into song, roses and daffodils bloomed at once. Im no romantic, but I *felt* it. The room got stuffy. Hot. I was burning up.
Lisa wasnt classically beautiful, but there was something about hersomething that drove me wild. And trust me, Ive seen stunning women. Known plenty, too. Blondes, brunettes, redheadsthough Ive always had a soft spot for brunettes with pixie cuts. Flowers, chocolates, dates? Been there, done that. Ive loved and been loved. Fell hard, moved on easy if rejected.
But with her? I just wanted to bury my face in her lap, trace my fingers over her soft skin, tangle my hands in her chestnut waves, breathe her inno limits, no rules.
Lisa worked under me. Not the best employee, but reliable. Tough projects? Handled. I could shout at her, relish the power. Why? Shed shrink, so fragile, and Id *need* to break her further. But she never cracked. If shed just criedjust onceId have wiped her tears. Maybe then Id have changed.
I tried everything to get her attention. Chocolates, compliments, *looks*. I wanted to touch hernot just physically. To read her mind. And I almost did; I *knew* she felt something too.
When she was near, it was like scalding water poured over me.
Once, I hugged her. She shoved me off, silent, eyes locked on mine. *How dare she?*
She was my equal, and I hated admitting it. Hated more that she wasnt *mine*.
Watching her navigate life was fascinating. She solved problems effortlessly. My mates smirked, thinking Id reeled her in, itching for their turn. It gutted mebecause it wasnt true.
She was untouchable.
Id flirt on the phone with other women, hoping to spark jealousy. She wouldnt even glance my way.
I *knew* she felt it too. In my bones. She *had* to.
She needed this job. I thought shed endure anything, that one day shed be at my feet, and Id shower her with love. I *wanted* that.
But pride doesnt just break down wallsit destroys everything.
Friday came. She didnt. Phone off, email blocked. That minx left the project unfinished. Shed played me.
Like a cloud, she vanishedclose enough to touch, yet gone.
I never thought it possible.
How wrong I was.
It happens.
