I stared at my phone for the sixth time, hoping and perhaps —wishing, that Fiona would suddenly message me. The silence was maddening, and the ache in my chest was proof enough that I couldn't live without her. Last night had solidified that fact. I'd traveled miles just to be close to her, and I would do it again without hesitation.
My mind drifted back to the first time I saw her. It was late at night, and she was wandering the streets with a bag slung over her shoulder, looking lost and unsure of herself. I'd watched her from a distance, mesmerized by the way she looked, wallked and everything about her that I was yet to know. She had looked sad and unsure and I badly wanted to approach her, well not until a middle-aged woman approached her instead. I had only hesitated because I didn't want to admit to myself that I was attracted to someone after so long.
