Page 283 - Anonymous
P. 283
talk and I like that. I twist the straps of
my handbag. Where do I even begin?
“I think I’m being followed, or have
been, for a while now.”
He leans back in his chair, a dark
eyebrow arches as he observes me. I hate
the way he scrutinizes me. "Go on."
"I told Chelsea about it. I’ve been
getting calls from an unknown number,
received a few odd poems in the mail, and
