Ruin

61

It has been a whole week, after all, and right now I'm honestly concerned.

I mean, how much more space does he need?

I know he's still in his feelings, and all, and I get it, but I miss him. I really do.

This has been the longest we've been apart and, after the first two days, I quickly realized it was two days too long. Now, it has been a full work week...so it shouldn't be surprising that I'm slowly losing my fucking mind.

It feels like I'm having withdrawals. Honestly.

Yes, mi a yam fi the bwoy. Mi know. Mi nuh business!

After what feels like an eternity of wrestling with myself on whether or not to text him, I succumb to the pressure.

Lowe mi!

My fingers dance over the keyboards, only stopping long enough, every few seconds, for me to decide on the proper wording of a sentence.

After deleting and retyping a few things to make it seem a little less needy, or desperate, I read over what I have so far.

ME to Lucas❤️: Hey. I know you're still upset with me and need your space. I respect that. But I was wondering if you'd want to come over to mine tomorrow? We're having a little get together for my mother's birthday and she would love it if you could come. If you aren't too busy, that is. Let me know...

Hmm...

Add sum'n else?

Mi nuh think so, don't it?

As I said, I don't want to come off des...

Maybe an emoji?

"Brownin' a you she a call?" the voice beside me says, catching my attention.

Huh?

I look up briefly before quickly finishing up the sentence.

"See it here, baby girl!" the server calls out again as I type the last word, followed by a little green heart emoji.

That's me.

This affi go work.

Quickly hitting send, I get up and make my way over to the counter although my mind rests on the text I just sent and the likely response it'll get.

What a fuck him if see it and nuh bap pon it, though?

Mi woulda shame yuh fret!

* * *

My phone pings as I pull in through the entrance gate of the complex of Clarke & Co. Real Estate Firm.

Adjusting my seat belt, I roll my window down as the tall, lenky security guard exits his booth and approaches the vehicle.

"Good Afternoon, ma'am. You have an appointment?" he asks, resting his hand on the lever of the red and white stripe barricade.

He looks as tired as I feel, with his slightly red eyes droopy and his bleached face fixed with a lazy scowl.

"Good afternoon," I greet him with a smile, "Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Clarke."

He looks at my face and then nods. "Is he expecting you?"

He should be. Well, maybe not this early, but nevertheless. I was to come after work, but since work let off earlier than expected, I decided to just come here and get this over with. After all, it has been 5 days late already.