‘Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.’ — Euripides

~•~

AMANDA

Time was speedily running by, yet Robert and his date for the night were nowhere to be seen.

What the hell was keeping them late? I wondered, my hands gripping my wine glass so tightly that it almost shattered.

They were supposed to arrive an hour ago if I counted correctly because the masked ball party had begun ever since.

The evening had been pretty busy, with ...