The sun arose in the horizon; its rays were peeking through the somewhat shiny panes of the bedroom windows. From there, a woman of young age arose with dark under-eye circles, a seemingly pale skin and a shaggy hair. She yawned and stretched her body high up, trying to reach the high ceilings.
Then, she rubbed her eyes, trying to recollect everything she did last night as it seemed like a dark and fuzzy memory. With hurry, she jerked up from her bed and turned her head side to side. She threw the pillows, pulled the sheets and bent under the bed---nothing.
The journal was gone.
She tried desperately to remember where she'd have put it, but her eyes laid at the messy sheets I swear I left it here last night, she thought. Her mind was under great thought first thing in the morning, until it was cut off by the sound of a door click. There stood beside her another young woman, Merry. As usual, she was wearing her corporate outfit, one with slacks.
"Good morning, young miss," she spoke, turning her attention to the messy bed sheets, "What's wrong? Did you get robbed?"
Sharmaine remained quiet.
"Young miss..?"
This time, Sharmaine noticed Merry's call. Still she remained silent, her eyes trying to not show suspicion. Merry had been gone for a long time, she thought.
"I would not say 'robbed' however I am missing an item when I woke up." Her head was down with determined eyes as if she was going to solve a murder case. She turned to Merry then to the bed, "Oh, wow. Look at the time! I'm going to be late for work."
She smiled to Merry. "Let's go and have breakfast." Merry nodded silently.
ooo
At the company office, Sharmaine stood around and did all of her tasks for the day. Fifteen minutes into her lunch break, a seemingly young man entered the room. Her eyes met with the dazzling suit he wore as the air dissipates comfort.
Sharmaine jerked up. "M-Mr. Suarez."
He paced the room slowly; soon, he stood mightily before her. "I suppose you're avoiding me now?"
She paused; his beautiful eyes lingered.
"I-I—no. What are you t-talking about?" Despite of the cold room, she could feel her body gradually becoming warmer. As she ran her eyes up Denzel's figure, a memory flashed through her mind. There was a minute of silence before the man spoke again.
"You know, you do really look like him."
With no accord nor hesitation, he quickly pulled her head towards him. Their lips touched gently with subtle movements from inside. Strangely, Sharmaine did not pull back but instead closed her eyes as she unconsciously felt the warmth the man gave.
Thirty minutes past twelve—their lips separated with a thin string of saliva weakly connecting it that slowly broke off. Their hearts pounded; there was no going back. They kissed again with no care about the outside world.
Fifty minutes past twelve—it was a joy and frankly another mistake on Sharmaine's part.