But this time I wasn’t going to screw things up. I was going to be myself and he was going to leave. But that’s ok, so long as I didn’t become s...mebody I hated, like last time. When I met Daniel I wore high-heels, make-up and short skirts. I loved to party and I wasn’t shy. I wouldn’t say I was a slut but I knew what got a man’s attention. We dated for about a year and by the time the girls chucked him out of my flat at 2 in the morning 365 days later I was a different person. I was shy and. My mind anticipated the possibilities of what you sent; another story, a possible rendezvous? Everything else took a back seat as I clicked on your name and the screen enlarged to your email. There was simply one line written. "Check the inside pocket of your bag." The inside of my bag? I pulled the flap open and peered inside where you said to look. Tucked in the far recesses of my satchel was a pair of your red lace panties. The same ones you wore the last time we were together. The memories. More

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