The Man Behind the Mask
Just when I figured my plan had failed, I heard the familiar sound of a whistle.
I shot up from the bed and quickly switched on both lights in the bedroom. The masked man entered, and I stubbornly turned my back to him, pretending to be upset.
"Are you mad?"
His body, hot as ever, pressed against me from behind, and he took my cold hand, warming it gently in his own.
“I’ve been busy lately. That’s why I haven’t come to see you,” he said.
I wasn’t even sure why I felt angry or why he felt the need to explain himself. It was all so ridiculous. He seemed to find it amusing, too, as he turned me around, trying to get a good look at me.