Lost Me Gained Regret



"Ms. Jackson, just accept this meal and I'll be on my way," he insisted, standing firm outside her door.

Christine was at her wit's end, "Keep this up, and I'm calling the cops."

Primo shrugged, nonchalant. "Do whatever you feel necessary, Ms. Jackson. But please, take the food. It won't taste as good once it gets cold."

Silence.

Christine didn't want to deal with this anymore. "Fine, I'll take it this time. But this is the last time, or we're really going to end up at the police station."

For Primo, it was a small victory.

"Alright, just open the door."

Christine reluctantly opened the door, took the meal, and slammed it shut.

She really didn't want to eat it, feeling it was a waste to throw it away.

After some thought, she called someone over.

Primo quickly reported back to Dailey, "Sir, Ms. Jackson requested an in-home massage."

Dailey stayed in his dark room, curtains drawn.

The meal he sent was from her favorite restaurant, an attempt to win her over without resorting to his own cooking skills.

In the dim light, his voice rasped, "Male or female?"

"Male."

The dim light flickered before fading again.

Dailey just had Primo return, without further instructions.

Primo was puzzled.

That's it?

--

The massage therapist arrived, equally puzzled.

"What did you say?"

"I said, help me finish this meal."

"You don't want the massage?"

Christine tossed her hair, "Got to have energy for that, right?"

Silence.

The young therapist blushed, "We only offer professional massages." Christine laughed, "Sure, 'professional.""

Embarrassed, the therapist pleaded, "Please, we really are professional. I can't fulfill that request, but don't leave a bad review, okay? I'm good at what I do; you'll feel relaxed after."

Christine was just teasing; she wasn't up for a massage anyway.

"Don't worry, no bad review. I just really need help with this meal."

This was a first for the therapist, who quietly started eating, missed lunch. The food was

my started eating, havinget

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Curious, he asked, "Did you make this?"

"No, it's from The Velvet Vine."

"The Velvet Vine?" He choked.

et

It was a high-end place in Vista Town, known for its exquisite dishes but with a price tag to match, and reservations were hard to come by.

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Back in his rural hometown, everything was naturally grown, unlike the pricey "organic" labels in the city.

Out of his league, he thought.

Seeing Christine's lifestyle, it made sense she could afford it.

"Lost your appetite?" she teased.

"Just surprised," he admitted.

The doorbell rang; Christine had ordered a burger.

The therapist was confused.

"A burger over The Velvet Vine?"

She nodded, "The Velvet Vine was from my ex. Anything associated with him just doesn't taste as good."

Understanding dawned on the therapist, who nodded vigorously, "I'll make sure it doesn't go to waste." "Can't let good food go to waste," Christine approved with a thumbs up.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang again.