Malignant [h.s]

Eighty Eight

Amelia Adams

I open the door to the office with my broom, sweeping up the hardwood floors. I've spent basically the whole day cleaning because this place needed it. I haven't done a good cleaning for a while. I've cleaned the bathroom, his bedroom, the kitchen, and now the office. This room is probably the messiest because we spend a lot of time in here. Harry usually does his work and I do some art, or we just enjoy sitting on the couch and read.

Harry is at work today but he should be home within the hour. Hopefully he appreciates all the cleaning I did today because I don't really do it often anymore.

I continue to sweep the hardwood floors, sweeping around the couch and chalkboard. I place the broom down for a second and clean the books that are thrown on the ground and on the couch.

I grab all the books that we've been reading and place the stacks on the tables that are either side of the couch. I've manage to read a couple books in the past while and you can tell because of the stack.

I pick up the broom again and keep sweeping the oak floors, leading up to the desk.

Images of last night keep replaying in my head. I can't believe we had sex on his work desk. Its not that I regret it, I am just amazed about how crazy I got into doing something that. This man has made me so crazy, but in the best way possible.

Just thinking about his strong body on top of mine and the deep raspy moans leaving his lips is enough to make my heart race.

I walk over to his desk and start sweeping the dust off the floor from around it. His desk is an absolute disaster, it has a bunch of unopened envelopes and pens everywhere, mixed with a few books. I lean the broom again the desk and start organizing it a bit- stacking the books and throwing the pens in the jar. I grab all the hits unopened envelopes and stack them all nicely. These things have to go in a drawer or something, he needs more cleaned off space on this desk.

I open one of the mahogany drawers and see that it's shuffled with open letters, almost over flowing with them. I widen my eyes and scuffle, why the heck does he need to keep every single piece of paper that's given to him.

I take a handful of them out and try to arrange them all nicely proportionate so their at least a little more neat. As I shuffle all the papers, my eyes subconsciously narrow the name at the top of one of the letters.

Westly Ray Sehard.

I freeze and look at the white letter addressed to a name that's not Harry's. My heart feels like it stopped racing as I blink a few times at the scary name. Why does he have a letter thats directed for Westly?

I flip to the next one and see the same name at the top, immediately flipping to the next to see it again.

"What is going on?" I stutter weakly to myself, continuing to flip through all the letters and seeing more and more of them addressed to the same person. None of these have Harry's name on them. My hands feel like they've gone numb as I stand utterly confused at his desk.

Before I know it, my hands are diving in his drawer again, ripping out all the other letters. Every single one has To Westly Ray Sehard written at the top corner. I didn't realize that my body was shaking in nerves until I realize the flimsy papers are jittering in my hand.

I whip open the other drawers, retrieving more letters and praying to see them addressed to Harry- but their not.

"To Westly Ray Sehard."