Disappearance
Caspian glared at the huge wall clock in his study room for the umpteenth time while holding an exasperated look on his face.
The fact that the clock read it was just quarter to one made him feel even more unsettled.
“Why the hell did you have to let her leave when you had the chance to talk with her?” he muttered from between his sharp teeth.
He steepled his hands in front of his forehead, his fingertips slightly massaging his glabella. And he kept on rambling to himself, “And why on earth would you throw that rude remark just before she headed out? Couldn’t you have just shut your trap? You know better than to hurt her. She is already hurt as is.”
Caspian suddenly gripped the edge of his work desk with both of his hands, almost as if he wanted to hurl it right at the clock. But he abstained from doing so.