TWENTY-SEVEN

It was a beautiful morning, Gemma had slept off, talking with Isaac on the phone, she yawned, rolling to and fro, it was the weekend and she didn't have to go to work today

Gemma checked the time, and it was past nine in the morning. She yawned repeatedly, finally taking the courage to get off the bed.

She stared through her window, and her neighbours were up, their kids played in their yarn. She took her cell and headed to the bathroom.

The sound of Sam Smith played loud in her room as she danced to the rhythm. She whined her waist, and Gemma opened her bedroom door, with a brown towel wrapping her wet hair.

"You are perfection, my only direction..." Gemma hummed softly. She dropped her cell in the sink and took out her brush and toothpaste.

A few minutes later, she was downstairs in a pink robe.

"Mom?" She called out, walking to the kitchen, in search of something to eat. The note of last night was still in the same position.

"She didn't come home?" She pouted, ta