LUSTBORN
Outside, Sylvia walked briskly, coat pulled close against the evening chill.
She stopped at the traffic light, red glowing above her, and pulled out her phone.
Her fingers tapped quickly: 'she said yes. Fell right into it. This is going to be easier than I thought.' Send.
A smile curled on her lips, cold, sharp nothing like the one she had worn upstairs.
She typed again: 'I have to keep her close. Keep her writing. She won't see a thing until it's too late.' Send.
The wind shifted.
The night pressed heavy.
Bab Populer