This work contains themes and scenes intended for mature readers (18+). It explores intimacy, emotional complexity, and adult relationships through contemporary romance and erotic realism. Reader discretion is advised.
The Threshold
Jasmin Confronts Cotton
Jasmin confronts Cotton not with anger but with presence, leaving a note that dismantles Cotton's attempts to treat her as a symbol rather than a person.
An Excerpt from this Chapter...
Jasmin took a sip of her coffee. She winced. “Strong.”
“It’s how you ordered it.”
“I know.” Jasmin drummed her fingers on the lid. “Look, I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
“This.” She gestured between them. “The staring. The tension. I’m a philosophy major. I overthink everything until it dies.”
Cotton let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I classify people until they stop being real.”
Jasmin stopped drumming. She looked at Cotton—really looked at her.
“What am I?” she asked. “In your classification?”
Cotton hesitated. She thought of the blank page in the notebook.
“Unclassified,” Cotton whispered.
Jasmin’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that bad?”
“It’s terrifying.”
Jasmin nodded. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. It was damp from the rain.
“I wrote this,” she said. “Three days ago. When you didn’t show up.”
She placed it on the counter.
“Read it later,” she said. “Or throw it away. I just… I needed to give it to someone.”
She turned and walked out. The bell rattled again.
The Transubstantiation
Cotton waited until the door closed.
She picked up the note. The paper was soft, almost disintegrating.
She unfolded it. The ink had bled slightly, but the words were legible.
Stop looking at me like I’m a metaphor. I’m just a person who likes your coffee.
Cotton stared at the note.
It wasn’t profound. It wasn’t poetic. It was annoying.
She laughed. A dry, rusty sound that scraped her throat.
She looked at the empty cafe. She looked at the note again.
I’m just a person.
It was the most terrifying thing anyone had ever said to her.