Too much cologne, too much excitement… far too much for someone claiming he had “meetings.”
I stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee finish brewing.
In my hand… a small bottle of laxative.
This wasn’t impulsive.
It came after months of silence, phone calls that ended when I walked in, and “urgent meetings” that always seemed to happen on Friday nights.
And most of all… after the message I saw the night before:
“I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow. Don’t forget the perfume I like.”
Signed—Carolina.
The new secretary.
Elegant name. Too elegant.
