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A Short Story : A Story?

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Morgana’s eyes snapped open the moment her chilled martini dribbled into her lap. She’d begun to nod off and lost her grip on the stem of her glass.

“Fuck. Shit.” Now she smelled like a distillery. But who cared? She was alone; Morgana had made sure of that.

The moment Merlin left her home last week, she panicked. Morgana, falling in love? Preposterous. Insane. Merlin would do the same thing all the other men had done in her life: he’d cheat and disappoint. He’d use her up until there was nothing left, except this time, she’d be shattered, because she adored him. Morgana had loved him as a friend for a long time, so all it took was one passionate night to thrust her into romantic love.

So when he called later that afternoon, as promised, Morgana turned on utter bitch-mode.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s so good to hear your voice. I miss you already.”

Ugh. He sounded so sincere, but there was no point in beating around the bush. “About that…last night was a mistake. It was fun and all, but a mistake.” Now for the death blow. “So don’t expect it again.”

There was dead silence on the other end for close to half a minute. “Wow. That is not what I expected to hear. I must be a complete fool, because I thought you were really into it. And into me.”

“It was fine.” She cringed as she spoke those cruel words.

“You’re lying,” he said flatly. “I’m not trying to be mean, but I hear the falseness in your voice. I know you well, Morgana, and you’re not being honest with me, maybe not

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