Jasmine Yale fell silent, slowly walking back to her bedroom and drawing the curtains open.
As she did, she saw the bright lights and bustling cityscape outside her window.
From atop the high buildings, everything was in clear view.
She stood by the window, silently, with a watery luminance in her eyes, like glittering lake waters.
The surge of emotions in her heart had passed, and now, things seed much calr.
Beneath the biting cold winds, Landon seed bleak, the view lacking vibrant colors, mostly filled with mundane scenery.
The winter sun hung lazily in the sky, its rays warm but not blinding.
...
At night, amidst the colorful lights and flowing wine, the night sky hung low.
Surrounded by the dark night, shrouded in white fog, the lights were bright.
Jasmine Yale sent a ssage to Sylvan Cheney: "Heavenly Blessing Hotel, 1509, I’m waiting for you."
Two minutes later, Sylvan replied: "I won’t co."
Jasmine chuckled to herself and sent another ssage: "I’m waiting for you."
She didn’t know what she was gambling on, but she knew he would co.
Jasmine stood up, took out a bottle of wine, pulled the cork, and poured the red wine into two tall glasses.
The ruby-like liquid flowed down the clear glass walls, producing a dark red luster under the bright lights.
Her eyes fixated on the two glasses of wine, the rosy hue reflecting in her pupils, casting a faint shadow in her gaze.
The aroma of the wine perated the moderately-sized bedroom, intoxicating and rich.
Two glasses of wine.
One was his, one was hers.
After pouring, she took a white pill from her bag, crushed it, and dropped it into his glass.
Throughout the process, Jasmine’s deanor was extrely calm, her face undisturbed, even... serene as water.
She sat at the table, waiting for him, waiting for him to co.
She hadn’t bathed, still wearing her clothes from the day, just without the overcoat, now in a white sweater.
Her hair was tied up with a royal blue hairband, enhancing her serene and dignified deanor.
Jasmine sat at the table, one hand supporting her cheek, the other gently swirling the wine glass in front of her.
Ti slowly ticked by, making the entire bedroom feel quiet and lonely.
Sylvan hadn’t returned her ssage.
She continued to wait, believing in his arrival.
In the bedroom, there was a small hourglass tir on the bedside table; sotis, Jasmine did nothing else but squint at the tir, watching the sand trickle down.
Waiting could often be boring, but waiting for him was a pleasure.
Just like many previous nights, she would sit in the Cheney Residence’s living room, watching television while waiting for him.
She loved waiting for him.
Although he asked her not to, she would agree verbally and then forget by the next day.
So things, once done enough, beco habitual, as natural as eating and sleeping.
She pondered whether he had grown accustod to seeing her every ti he ca ho.
If one day she didn’t wait for him, would he frown?
At that thought, a slight curve ford on Jasmine’s lips.
Landon was a place filled with mories for her, and each mory had him in it.
These mories were like bright, pristine pearls, and he, the red thread that strung them together.
Once the thread broke, the pearls would scatter.
Under dim lights, she stared at the wine in the glass, sowhat dazed.
Would he co?
He surely would.
The light refracted from the wine shone on her pupils, casting a soft halo on her beautiful eyes.
"Let not spring blossoms compete to bloom, for each inch of love turns into an inch of ash."
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