Mallory Lockhart was thirty-seven. Her relationship was complicated, and she was an ads manager at West Coarse Technology. She had brown hair, a heart-shaped face, hazel eyes set a little too close together behind wire-rimmed glasses, perfectly trimmed and arched eyebrows, and a petite and compact body.
Her bachelor’s degree was from West Scottridge University.
She’d shared five puppy memes over the last day, three sarcastic quote memes over the last week, and she had more than two thousand social media friends.
She’d recently gotten a golden retriever named Bugsy, and she was “excited to have her new pup for a new chapter in her life.”
I leaned forward to see the timestamp on that last post. It was four days ago, posted at 7:03 in the evening. I scrolled through the comments.
“Love y
