BEGINNING TO BE REAL

DAMIEN

It’s only been a few days since that night in my office, but I can’t shake the memory of Anna—the feel of her lips, the softness of her touch, the way she held me like I was something more than a broken mess wrapped up in business suits and deadlines. I can still feel her presence, lingering like a shadow in my office, in my home, in every quiet moment that used to be reserved for the mental noise I’ve cultivated over the years.

Work has only become more complicated since then, and I try to distract myself with calls and files. Yet, the harder I throw myself into my work, the more I crave her company. I keep replaying that kiss, wondering if it meant as much to her as it did to me—or if I just read too much into it like I always do.

I glance at my watch. It's nearly midnight, and I’ve been hunched over my desk for hours. Numbers, data, endless calls to suppliers and disgruntled clients—it all blurs together, a wash of monotony that would usually lull me into a numb state of f