‘I hate it!
I’m a monster. I am better than this. I’m a good man who did a bad thing! I’ll stay away from the school. Maybe then I’ll be able to keep my hands off her.’
His phone rings, bringing him back from the world he had deeply immersed himself. It’s his only daughter – Kimberly. They hold a brief conversation, and the line goes silent. Is he a terrible father too? He wonders to himself as he transfers money from his account to Kimberly’s.
Some days are easy, and some are definitely harder. He knows he has no love for Asia. She’s a wonderful girl who sits in the front row in his history class – a student. One that he has no business sneaking around school with. But he likes what she is. How new she is to her own sexuality and how good she feels. She’s nothing like the mature woman. How shy she gets around him is exciting, and the way she loves to be around him strokes his ego more than it should. More often than not, getting through the class is impossible without his other students knowing he has a favourite.
His students are no fools either. They whisper in corners about the affair. Asia is bullied for it, but her love for him is deeper than any humiliation. She doesn’t care about anyone else. She knows it’s wrong that she is in love with a married man, but to her that’s the only vice. In her journal, she reminds herself every night that love has no age. Just because she is fourteen doesn’t mean she is incapable of finding true love, even though it may be in an older man. She adores him, and in her eyes, he is perfect.
He stands from the couch in his home office and heads towards the kitchen balcony for a smoke. As he pulls out the cigarette from him left pocket, it is accompanied by a little note he had forgotten about. It is from his young lover. She writes
I know this is weird but…
We agreed I wouldn’t do this anymore, but
I’m sorry that I’m doing this when we agreed not to do this anymore. I’m also sorry that this note is a bit messy, and my thoughts are jumbled up. I just wanted you to know that you are always on my mind,
I think, I love you-ish. I think you love me too.
He crumples it up before placing it on the ash tray. He lights his cigarette and torches it as well. As he inhales the smoke, the letter burns in the tray. In a short while, all that is left of that poorly written note is its ashes. He sneers at the thought of it and finishes his cigarette. He wonders whether he will be able to put her aside and take charge of his life. He doesn’t want her. He knows it. But her body is everything, and it’s a drug he’s addicted to. He doesn’t want to stop getting the honey, and the only way is to continue keeping the bee.
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