Page 197 of The Wicked
“Goodbye.” I ended the call, exiting his message box to click on Gemma’s.
Yesterday
Gemma (blonde car highway):
Hi, my love! I’m thinking of getting a tattoo; which do you think suits me best? An eagle or a dove?
1:34 P.M.
Gemma (blonde car highway):
I think I’m going to go with a dove; it’s more fitting. I’m gonna have it under my left boob. I’ll send a picture when it’s done!
2:01 P.M.
Gemma (blonde car highway):
It’s done! Omg, it’s gorge!
(Sent a photo)
You like????
5:55 P.M.
The dove drawing was really beautiful, larger than I imagined, and it suited her skin complexion.
I was impressed.
Today
Gemma (blonde car highway):
Are you okay? You didn’t read this orrespond. Did your victims finally fight back and kill you? Omg! Do I need to call 112??? Fuck, I don’t even know your address.
Hope you’re okay. TEXT ME BACK SO I DON’T DIE WITH WORRY!
11:28 A.M.
I shook my head. It was good, the kind of friendship we shared. She texted every day, and I responded whenever I wasn’t too busy. Gemma was a free-spirited woman who reminded me so much of my sister. While their personalities might differ in several ways, I shared a closeness with this stranger that had me adding her to the list of people I had to make sure were okay before I reached my end goal.
But first I had to figure out why I was drawn to her.
Me:
Hello.
Me:
I apologize for the delay in response. I had a rough week.
Me:
The dove tattoo looks perfect. I like it. The artist did a good job.
Me:
If it’s no trouble for you, I would like to see you again, maybe at a restaurant of your choosing. Not tonight, but sometime between tomorrow and next day. Let me know your schedule.
