𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀

Damn photo

Twelve weeks seem like a century without him.

I don't know who I am without him.

My eyes are staring at my reflection in the mirror as I hear a knock on the door of my apartment. I give a quick look at myself one more time in the mirror, admiring myself. My makeup, some golden shadow over my eyes, my eyelashes with some mascara, and red lipstick. A tight green dress showing the curves on my body. Silver earrings hanging from my ears. And a bun tying my hazel hair.

I exit my room and walk down the hallway to open my apartment door. A muscular man, resembled to him, is standing there with a bouquet of red roses and a smile on his face.

Michael.

He is my age. He has muscular arms and body. He is handsome, not just handsome like normal handsome, he IS handsome, if you know what I'm talking about. He is a sweetheart; he has a gold heart. He is a neurosurgeon, well not yet but he will be soon, the best. He is finishing his studies, well he is doing his internship, in the best hospital in England. He donates for many charities. He cares for people. He treats people the best way possible. He loves his family and his friends. And he claims to have been in love with me since we were in high school.

We met in high school, 11 years ago. He wasn't like he is today, physically. We took all of our classes together, somehow, we got the same schedule every year, for three years. He was good in science, that's why he ended up being the best neurosurgeon, and I was good at nothing specifically. We were the best of friends back then, but we graduated and with all the amount of work the medicine career leaves you we lost contact for a while. We chat once in a lifetime, but we didn't see each other. Not until last year.

I studied physics and I'm getting a degree in astrophysics.

I smiled at him and took the flowers. Then I walked inside my apartment and onto the kitchen to take a vase for the flowers. I filled half of it with water and place the flowers inside it, then I placed it on the dining table. I told him how beautiful the flowers were, and he told me that I was way more beautiful than them, what made me blushed.

We made our way to his car, and he drove us to one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. We enter the place and a lady in a black dress ask for our reservation and once Michael told her his last name, she guided us to our table.

It's a really beautiful place. There are chandeliers, the waitresses are all fancy, and all the people around wear really expensive clothes. Did I mentioned Michael is wearing just designer clothes?

I earn money, in a really good amount, I mean I can buy myself this kind of stuff, but these people are another level. And I think that being a neurosurgeon makes you THAT kind of people. And he is still studying.

We look at our menu options and I decided to go for a cheese pasta, he goes for a piece of lasagna, and we choose a salad to share. And to drink of course red wine.

We talk and laugh. Just what best friends do, even though I know his intentions and mines.

Twelve weeks and I'm still here. Remembering, even though I have bad memory. But I can't forget him.

The food arrived. We eat and enjoy each other company.

We finish and he decided to take me a picture, "to remember how beautiful you looked like today," he said. I couldn't help but smile.

"Let me see it," I say to him. "I bet I did a funny face, and I don't want you to stay with that." I take his phone from his hands.

"I have lots of funny pictures of you," he replies.