I slept with him

‘I slept with him’, I whisper. Peeking around if anyone’s listening to us in this busy little cafe.

The look on my friend’s face is priceless. Her forehead creases into these little lines, wrinkles I would say, but she’s too young to have those. I play around with the cigarette butts in the ashtray and a random thought pops in my head – if I get pregnant after what happened last night, I’ll have to quit smoking.

She looks at me, and asks me only one question: 

Are you happy?

I nod. Up and down my head goes. And I really am happy. For once I can smile and feel light as feather, as light as cat fur floating in the air, as light as...you get the idea.

She asks another question:

Does he love you?

No.

We both sip our coffee and look out of the café window.