Page 75 of Glitched Play

He regrets kissing me.

He regrets bringing me here.

He regrets letting Dara offer me this place.

Maybe he regrets hiring me.

No. That one isn't fair. I earned the job. I know I did.

But the rest?

The rest feels possible.

The penthouse is his space. His quiet. His controlled, perfectly ordered world. And I have spent the last two weeks filling it with decorative mugs, packing boxes, wine glasses, laughter, Noelle, Chase's phone calls, and feelings neither of us has any business having.

Careful not to make too much noise, I tip toe away, occasionally looking back.The light under his office door stays steady, but there’s no movement, or sound.

By the time I reach my room, my chest aches in a way I refuse to name.

I close the door softly behind me, lean back against it, and finally let myself breathe. Then I look toward the nightstand and the drawer.

Toward the letter I brought with me because apparently some endings can't be left behind just because you change cities.

My fingers move before I fully decide to follow them.

The drawer slides open.

The stationery waits inside.

Dear Glitch.

I sit on the edge of the bed in my emerald gown, hair still pinned, lipstick still on, heart still a mess from one man who walked away and another who exists only in letters.

For the first time in months, I pick up the pen and don't stop at two words.

I smooth the cream-colored stationery across my lap and stare at the blank page for several long moments. My fingers tighten around the pen before loosening again.

For months, every letter has ended the same way.

With nothing.

A few words, a crumpled page and ending up in the trash can.

Tonight, the words come.

Not easily, but honestly.

Dear Glitch,

I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't even know if you're still checking the post office box or if you've decided that disappearing was easier than saying goodbye like I thought.

Part of me hopes you're happy. The other part is still selfish enough to hope you think about me sometimes.

I think about you more than I probably should.

I wonder if you're still gaming until two in the morning.

If you're still forgetting to eat when you're working on something you love.