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Wednesday, February 24, 2010


please ignorrre
Project?
“You’re name’s Brenda, right?” He asked, turning away from the mirror to face me.
“Actually, it’s Breni.”
He wrinkled his perfect brow to form a facial question mark and began to saunter towards me.
“Well, it is short for Brenda, yeah, but most people just call me Breni because I think it fits me better and…” I let my voice trail off. He was standing so close to me, I could smell his Armani cologne. Like the rest of him, it threatened to put me in so deep a daze, I almost went comatose.
Bending his long frame down to my level, Jazzy stared into my eyes for what could have been seconds or years. I lost track of time. I lost track of everything in those deep, dark brown chasms of eyes that could have swallowed me whole.
Finally, he chuckled softly, leaned into the crook of my neck, and whispered, “You’re as red as a cherry, darling.” Jazzy then proceeded to bestow a small kiss on my check, which made the skin on my face buzz and undoubtedly turn even redder, take my arm, scribble something on it in black eyeliner, and turned to go.
“When you’re done crying over your ex—and I mean for good, not just for now,” he told me. “Either come see me or call that number. We have a lot of work to do.”

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