He couldn’t sleep. His head was throbbing and he felt slightly nauseous.

“Never again!” He almost smiled, uttering the famous two words that everyone spoke after a bad hang-over.

Wincing, he reached out for the switch of the bedside lamp.

He swung his feet to the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. It was 4 A.M. He could hear her breathe. What was her name again?? He turned around to look at her face. She was pretty, maybe even beautiful. But he really didn’t give a damn about that.

He got up, took out a robe from the cupboard and headed for the balcony.

The latch of the door opened with a loud click and he looked over his shoulder. She was still asleep. He let out a sigh of relief.

From the twentieth floor of the Grand President Hotel, he could see the city lights and the lights of the ships and boats on the sea. It was a beautiful sight. His gaze moved towards the moon. He fumbled around for a cigarette in the pockets of his robe, his fingers trembling ever so lightly as he lit one.

The moon. The moon light. The cold breeze that was pleasant and painful at the same time.

Everything reminded him of her. And of their first kiss…her soft, eager lips.

Funny that she still crossed his mind. She was long gone. But he missed her. More than he would admit to anyone. He had trained himself not to get attached to anyone, especially not to women. So what went wrong?

A street dog howled somewhere in the distance and he thought he could detect a tinge of….despair…maybe sorrow? Sorrow. It was a familiar feeling. Something which he had been used to till she had entered his life. But he blew it and broke her heart.


A few hours ago he had gone to one of London’s most happening bars. He’d gone there to let off some steam, drink a little..anything to fill up the hollow inside his heart. The stranger in his bed…Melinda? That’s what her name was… she had taken a bar stool next to his and she was alone, tipsy and ready for action.

One thing led to another and there they were, naked in his hotel room, clawing at each other like animals. He wasn’t gentle, she didn’t complain. As his hands went up Melinda’s legs to her thighs, her face flashed in front of his eyes. He stopped for a second and looked into a pair of blue eyes. Blue eyes. Hers were dark brown. Brown and full of mischief, love and warmth.

Snap out of it, he had muttered to himself. He reached out for the lights and switched them off. Maybe he wouldn’t see her face in the dark.


The street dog howled again, shaking him from his reverie. He lit another cigarette.

Where was she? What was she doing? Had she met someone new? The thought of her with someone else was…was…well he didn’t really want to think about it.

He wasn’t good for her. Or so he’d told himself when he had chosen to walk away from her. He wasn’t good for her…but she’d been good for him.

He walked back into the room, dressed quietly, careful not to make any noise. He took a notepad, and scribbled something on it, placing it on the table next to Melinda. The door shut with a soft click behind him.


Melinda woke up in the morning. It was well past noon. She stretched lazily. He was no where to be seen, as expected. Her lips curved up into a wry smile. Her eyes fell on the notepad.

” Feel free to let yourself out”.


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