12 The Meetings

Flora's phone rang with an unknown number flashing on the screen. A moment of hesitation lingered before she picked up, curiosity getting the better of her. "Hello?" she answered cautiously. "Flora, it's me," came the familiar voice on the other end, unmistakably Presley's. Flora's pulse quickened, the memories flooding back. "Presley?" "Yeah, it's been a while," he said, the weight of unresolved history evident in his tone. Flora remained guarded. "What do you want, Presley?" "I... I've been thinking," he started, his words cautious. "I'd like to meet, talk things out. We didn't part on good terms, and I think we owe each other that closure." Flora felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. Their past was a place she had tried to leave behind. "I don't know, Presley. It feels... strange." "I understand. But it might be good for both of us," he persisted. After a moment's contemplation even though she knew he never had any good intention, Flor