She even did the dishes! And while she was doing the dishes, she insisted that I snuggle up on the couch in a comfy terry-cloth robe, sipping a hot-chocolate spiked with Bailey's while flipping through the pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine.It's nice to make up after a fight. ... uh, if only I knew what we had been fighting about.And now here we were, getting ready for bed.Janice took the card and looked it over. "Jack asked you to give this to me?" she asked, puzzled."Yes, why?" Well ... It's just..." What?" Well, it sure looks like your handwriting, not Jack's." Janice tore open the envelope and took out the card. "This card is definitely from you, it's got your signature," she announced, glancing it over."I swear I don't remember writing it..." My mind was whirling. Did I forget that I wrote Janice a card? Did this happen sometime last night? What was going on?"Oh my god..." Janice muttered, reading the card"What??" I asked. "What does it say?" I reached for the card.Janice held it. Everything seemed stale or just plain dull. To top it off, the city really seemed to be experiencing a shortage of attractive singles in her age bracket. As if to reassure herself, she quickly scanned the people around her one more time. Then, she took a quick peek down toward the register, where she noticed someone new and unfamiliar. Having lived in the area for quite a few years, she was familiar with many of the people in the close-knit neighborhood, even if she didn't know them all by name. Newcomers were a fairly rare occurrence, thanks to some of the recent construction nearby. Apparently people preferred “new and shiny” to "old with character" when it came to apartments. Miranda eyed the newcomer, a brunette woman, maybe five years or so her senior, as she paid for her drink, climbed the stairs, and settled at a nearby table. The two women made eye contact briefly, smiled politely, and then Miranda went back to reading. The story was her favorite sub-genre of erotica, where.
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