Late Night Blues

    Ella: After two more hours of trying to squeeze in some sleep, I decided that it just was not working out for me. I did not want to wander around outside again. Samson was on my mind, and it was not right. He shouldn't have been there. Yet, I wanted to keep him in my thoughts.
    I peeked under the bed and spotted my memory box where all the good photographs lay. All of our photos were in here, from the good to the bad. Lifting up the lid, a black and white of us kissing on a white bed surrounded by red roses popped up. It was the very last picture we took. There were various images of us looking so happy in love.
    My eyes started to tear up. I was spending a perfect Friday evening crying over stupid reminders of the past. That's exactly what it was the past. As far as I was concerned, there appeared to be no future for us. However, I seemed to be stuck in reverse, rewinding to our old moments. Sitting here on the floor, I wondered if he happened to be thinking of me.



   Samson:  My original plan was to go straight to the hotel. Well, that did not happen. Instead, I am here at a bar, waiting for the bartender to serve me. I wanted Ella to fade from my mind. All these country love songs that were playing through the speakers were not helping whatsoever. As soon as the whiskey was brought to me, I gulped it down and ordered another. It was a good thing I did not drive here or I would be pulled over fast.
    "Hey, you're the guy who entered the Valentine's Day Karaoke!" The bartender was surprised to see me. I wasn't a regular here, but she knew me through Ella.
    "Yeah."
    "How are you and Miss E doing? Planning a wedding?"
    "We aren't together at this moment," I said that in a simple monotone voice. I questioned myself if Ella has been here. "Um, has she come around here?"
    The bartender looked at bit cautious at first. "She came in yesterday. I am surprised she hasn't come today." I nodded. So she has become a regular here. Maybe if I stuck around long enough she would waltz right through the doors.
    I started thinking about what the bartender said about planning a wedding. Was it possible that she blabbed to this woman about marrying me? I'm drinking this third shot of whiskey, hoping she is reminiscing about us.

    
Ella:    As I got up from the floor, my cell phone fell out of my lap. I stared it down for a while. There the phone was taunting me to give him a call and check up on him as I used to do. Picking up the phone, I punched in the digits of his number. I began praying for him to answer.

    
Samson:    By the fifth shot, I had enough to drink. I was bordering the line between tipsy and sober. My drunken thoughts were egging me on to give Ella a ring; the sober thoughts said it was a bad idea. This time being tipsy affected my judgment.


Ella:    Seventh ring sent me to his voicemail. I was having a moment of indecision, when I finally decided to leave one. Before I got a chance to speak, I was startled.
    "Babe, I missed you." Oh, crap. When Samson received this, he sure is not going to hear my voice but a male's. Let's hope he didn't have the same number.


Samson:    She didn't answer. That is what I get for calling her house phone when I should have called the cell. Oh, well, at least her answering machine is on. Hopefully, she will hear it and get back to me. "Ella! It is I Samsonite. Um, I want to get something off my chest. I want to tell you that I---"
"Want to sleep at my place?" Curse this bartender! Ella is going to imply that I have girlfriend now. My chances just were ruined, so I hung up the phone.  
    Things do not go right. Timing is horrible. Wait…missed call from her?