Burning Moon (Wattpad Version)

Chapter 9

I had a strange dream that night; I dreamt that I was at Esmeralda’s having my cards read. At first glance everything seemed normal, but then Esmeralda walked in wearing my wedding dress, which looked terrible on her because on a good day she looks a little something like an elephant seal. (I was secretly very happy about this.) Her arm fat was oozing out of the top, sides and back of the dress, and her boobs here sitting somewhere around her eyebrows. I was wearing my pyjamas. I looked down and noticed that the floor was covered in soft white beach sand. Her Monitor lizard was sitting on the floor next to my foot eating a hamburger, which was very disturbing because he was doing it with a knife and fork. Esmeralda began turning the cards over, but every one was the same. The Jack of Hearts, the Jack of Hearts, the Jack of Hearts, the Jack of Hearts, the Jack of Hearts. I asked her if she still saw the blonde male and she said ‘No’. She saw a man with dark hair. I told her she was most definitely wrong, because he was supposed to be blonde. Then she got angry and told me her cards never lied and he was dark haired and had dark eyes and was holding the moon in his hand. I don’t really know why, but this made me very angry and so I grabbed a glass of water and threw it at her and then all her candles went out and I woke up.

I sat up in bed as if it had shocked me; the towel was still wrapped around me, and as soon as my eyes had adjusted to the bright light, I looked around the room. My first thought was yesterday's last thought; I must apologise to Damian. I glanced in the direction of the lounge, but he wasn’t there. I called out his name, no answer. I assumed he was outside, the sun was streaming through the huge windows and the day looked glorious, with no sign of last night's storm. I started climbing out of bed but stopped dead when I felt something crunch under my hand.

I didn’t need to look down; I knew exactly what it was.

There was a note on my pillow.

Queasiness gripped me, my recent experience with notes had not been a very positive one, and I had a sneaking suspicion that this was just going to reinforce that sentiment. I called out for Damian one more time, hoping… still no answer. I had a feeling I knew what the note was going to say. In fact, I was positive I knew.  

He was gone. And I would never see him again.

There was absolutely no need to read the note, so I got out of bed and tossed it on the floor. Why did I even care if he was gone? I didn’t. Damian was just some stranger that I’d met and felt sorry for. I stomped over to the coffee machine and turned it on aggressively, as if that would somehow make me feel better. The kettle started to bubble and I began making myself a strong cuppa, but all the while, I could feel the note staring at me. Staring at me with its beady little paper eyes. I ignored it and walked over to the couch for my morning caffeine hit. But the note began to peck at the back of my head with its sharp, folded paper corners.

Oh who was I kidding, of course I wanted to read it…

I’m really sorry, Lilly. 

X D

Irony had clearly come back for seconds…just four little words once more. But there was something very different about this note. Something so seemingly insignificant, but to me, it was huge. A tiny letter, that when I looked at it, made my heart race.

X.

A kiss.

I stared at the X on the paper. Why would he have put one there? Did he want to kiss me? Was he just being polite? What did it all mean, or was I reading too much into it and this was just the way he signed off all his letters? Why was this even bothering me? Why was I analysing a single letter on a note from a stranger?

AND…Why won’t this incessant narration in my head turn itself off and give me a chance to breathe and wake up?

I turned the note over hoping he’d left me his number, or an email address or something. He hadn’t. I suddenly realised that I didn’t even know his surname, so I couldn’t find him on Facebook. Or could I?