Ben
I tweak the colors on a photograph and check my phone. Nothing. That’s fine. I open my email and type out a quick response to a private portrait request—not right now, but maybe around Thanksgiving—then check my phone. Nothing. Great. I sip my coffee, swirl the latte around in my mouth to taste the tiny remaining flecks of cinnamon, and… check my phone.
Nothing!
Fuck it. I open the message thread with Marcie and read what I sent over again. Yup, it seems just as normal as it did nearly two full days ago. I can’t believe it’s already Wednesday. Half a week between the date and now, and she still hasn’t answered. Even a perfectly normal guy would start assuming he was being ignored at this point.
High-pitched laughter floats over the cubicles, and I jerk my head up. Heather is finall
