The pic she sent was a selfie. She sat in front of her dressing table, in a strapless peach nightgown. Her dark, lustrous hair, which was usually tied up, fell loose around her shoulders. She wore no makeup except the Lipstick Wesley bought her.

Wesley’s hand shook a little, and the enlarged image snapped back to its normal size.

“You’re quiet. That bad? Never mind. I’ll take it down,” Blair said.

Before she deleted the pic, Wesley saved it.

“I just wanted to let you know that not all lipstick is red. This one is buttermilk with a brownish tint. You can call it a Mocha Lipstick shade.”

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Holding his phone in his Left hand, and a cigarette between his fingers of his right, Wesley leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.

thing he could think about was Blair. She filled his head. Her smile,

angry Blair… Every one of them was

screen of his phone. He found the

so much,

like a slap in

the photo. Not even patient enough to get the makeup remover, she grabbed a cotton swab and started to remove the lipstick. She was frustrated,

rest of the detritus in there. Behind

bed, leaving

seemed reluctant to visit. She tossed and turned in bed, wondering why

and reached for

and put her phone

said. He was breathing heavily,

Blair thought the world

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