of those in love and the contrasting poignancy of lost love.
She pushed her phone aside, went to her suitcase, and pulled out the black folder. She brought that folder wherever she went.
All the songs within were penned when the thoughts passed her by. She never bothered to fine-tune them. After all, they weren’t meant for anyone, not until she thought about Christopher.
He might not be able to sing right now, but he would someday.
Christopher watched as Chloe hummed the tune to her new song. Her eyes were closed as she swayed the pencil to the rhythm of the song she was working on.
She had such a sweet smile, a smile he couldn’t get his eyes off.
He remembered the last time he saw her working on a song, a song that went on to become his greatest hit. He remembered how surprised she was when he announced he’d be singing her song in the finals.
He had played the demo to his mentor, and his mentor made sure everyone who had a say in the workings of the show agreed.
He never got to sing the song to her, though.
When he was on stage, he searched the audience, but he couldn’t find her. He didn’t know it then, but she was already on a flight to London.
He ran through the lyrics of the song in his head, lyrics about how nothing on earth mattered as long as he fixed his eyes on the love of his life.
He’d been told that women all around the world fell in love with him, with the notion of being that girl for him.
Whenever he sang that song, there was only one person on his mind.
You’re too late, Chris. He shook his head and turned away.
He looked over at the clock on the wall. It was already after three in the morning, and he bet she’d be looking for food soon.
You’re just not cut out to be a singer. You were a gimmick, a fad. Everything’s over now.
His hands twitched, and he felt a sudden agonizing thirst in his throat.
He strode into the kitchen, placed his hands on the counter, and bent forward, exhaling deeply. He hadn’t heard that accusing voice since he stopped drinking, and he thought he would never hear it again unless he went back to the bottle, which he would never allow himself to do.
Several times he was tempted, but he’d managed to stay sober—just barely.
If Chloe hadn’t come back, he couldn’t say for sure where he would be right now.
With another quiet sigh, he straightened and grabbed the bag of food he’d pilfered from his mom’s place.
He had to keep himself busy.
Though he’d assured Chloe that he was all right, though Chloe was absolutely right about not reading what the media was saying about him, he still went online to find out what Frank had said.
He was tempted to reply. He wasn’t drunk, hadn’t been for a while now.
His assistant, Rebecca, used to reply to such articles for him. She had an account with the fan club and was able to participate in various forums to let everyone know what was actually going on.
He was tempted to create an account now, but the whole idea seemed pointless. He figured it would be better to leave things alone and let the whole issue with Frank blow over.
He opened the bag and got to work on preparing the snack. While the egg rolled around in the pot of boiling water, he pulled out two slices of bread and cut away the edges.
Chloe never liked the sides. He never understood why, but she just didn’t like them.
He squeezed the Japanese mayonnaise into a small bowl before putting the bottle into the fridge.
Chloe entered the kitchen just as he cut the sandwich into small cubes.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Chloe said.
“Just in time.” He pushed the plate toward her.
“When did you get here?”
“Around half an hour ago. You … were working, so … I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She brought the cup she was holding over to the sink and turned on the tap. “How did you know I’d be looking for something to eat?”
“You used to send me texts in the middle of the night to complain about the lack of food
She pushed her phone aside, went to her suitcase, and pulled out the black folder. She brought that folder wherever she went.
All the songs within were penned when the thoughts passed her by. She never bothered to fine-tune them. After all, they weren’t meant for anyone, not until she thought about Christopher.
He might not be able to sing right now, but he would someday.
Christopher watched as Chloe hummed the tune to her new song. Her eyes were closed as she swayed the pencil to the rhythm of the song she was working on.
She had such a sweet smile, a smile he couldn’t get his eyes off.
He remembered the last time he saw her working on a song, a song that went on to become his greatest hit. He remembered how surprised she was when he announced he’d be singing her song in the finals.
He had played the demo to his mentor, and his mentor made sure everyone who had a say in the workings of the show agreed.
He never got to sing the song to her, though.
When he was on stage, he searched the audience, but he couldn’t find her. He didn’t know it then, but she was already on a flight to London.
He ran through the lyrics of the song in his head, lyrics about how nothing on earth mattered as long as he fixed his eyes on the love of his life.
He’d been told that women all around the world fell in love with him, with the notion of being that girl for him.
Whenever he sang that song, there was only one person on his mind.
You’re too late, Chris. He shook his head and turned away.
He looked over at the clock on the wall. It was already after three in the morning, and he bet she’d be looking for food soon.
You’re just not cut out to be a singer. You were a gimmick, a fad. Everything’s over now.
His hands twitched, and he felt a sudden agonizing thirst in his throat.
He strode into the kitchen, placed his hands on the counter, and bent forward, exhaling deeply. He hadn’t heard that accusing voice since he stopped drinking, and he thought he would never hear it again unless he went back to the bottle, which he would never allow himself to do.
Several times he was tempted, but he’d managed to stay sober—just barely.
If Chloe hadn’t come back, he couldn’t say for sure where he would be right now.
With another quiet sigh, he straightened and grabbed the bag of food he’d pilfered from his mom’s place.
He had to keep himself busy.
Though he’d assured Chloe that he was all right, though Chloe was absolutely right about not reading what the media was saying about him, he still went online to find out what Frank had said.
He was tempted to reply. He wasn’t drunk, hadn’t been for a while now.
His assistant, Rebecca, used to reply to such articles for him. She had an account with the fan club and was able to participate in various forums to let everyone know what was actually going on.
He was tempted to create an account now, but the whole idea seemed pointless. He figured it would be better to leave things alone and let the whole issue with Frank blow over.
He opened the bag and got to work on preparing the snack. While the egg rolled around in the pot of boiling water, he pulled out two slices of bread and cut away the edges.
Chloe never liked the sides. He never understood why, but she just didn’t like them.
He squeezed the Japanese mayonnaise into a small bowl before putting the bottle into the fridge.
Chloe entered the kitchen just as he cut the sandwich into small cubes.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Chloe said.
“Just in time.” He pushed the plate toward her.
“When did you get here?”
“Around half an hour ago. You … were working, so … I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She brought the cup she was holding over to the sink and turned on the tap. “How did you know I’d be looking for something to eat?”
“You used to send me texts in the middle of the night to complain about the lack of food
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