I text back, thinking that it might be the end of the conversation which doesn't really satisfy me because this few minutes of banter has been somewhat of a distraction from my boring time spent in this breakroom.
But then his response looms in the form ofdot dot dotswinging up and down, and I eager anticipate his text.
I watch until the message bubble pops up.
8:57pm
So, what is your name then, not Jane Doe? If you don't mind me asking…
My fingers hover over the keypad, hesitant to respond. Why would he want to know my name? We've confirmed he has the wrong number, and I thought that would be the end of that. But after a few minutes of consideration, I decide it won't hurt to provide him the same knowledge he gave me unknowingly earlier . . . a first name.
My fingers slowly press over the correct keys, but I slightly jump at the sound of a knock at the doorframe of the breakroom and look up to see my boss standing at the threshold.
He tells me that my break is up and that he needs me back out on the floor. I look at the clock, panicking slightly when I see that I spent my whole break paying more attention to this text thread than my need for food. I hear my tummy growl at the sight of my uneaten sandwich.Great.
Maybe I can sneak some fries when I get back on the floor.
I pack up my lunch stuff and toss it back into my locker but before I place my phone inside as well, I type out my name and push send.
4
Kyran
8:59pm
Weslyn.
That is definitely a name I would have remembered. Granted, I believed her when she said she was not out and about last night, confirming she wasn't the girl who programmed this number in my phone. But part of me now wants to find out who it is I've ended up texting instead.
A response doesn't come to my head. But I asked for her name so I should try and find a way to continue the conversation, right?
I replaceJane Doewith Weslyn’s name as the contact, wondering if it's even appropriate or not. But then I catch myself examining the zip code of her phone number. I recognize the number as belonging to a state not far from where I am but not sure if that quite means anything or not.
I study the previous messages. Something intrigues me about the few texts we've exchanged. And her name still holds a strong presence in my head. Why? Ihave no idea.
Thoughts flip through my mind for a response as I lean in my bed. Having this to occupy my time makes me realize that I do live a rather quiet life and even just texting this stranger seems to be the most exciting thing I've done in a while.
I decide that I'm just going to type the first thing that comes to my mind and see what happens. After all, there's nothing to really lose one way or the other.
9:12pm
That's a beautiful name.
I type it out and press send, not knowing if it's too forward or not. But really, there shouldn't be anything wrong with complimenting someone on their name. And I am just telling the truth. What's the harm? Worst case, she never responds because she does in fact think it's too forward. Otherwise, she'll text back some sort of response and who knows where it'll go from there.
I place my phone back on my nightstand and reach for the book taking up space there, diving back into the words of Jane Austen while I wait to see if she'll respond soon.
Saturday, November 9th
I allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in, which I don't do very often. Usually, I'm up and preparing for my day by four in the morning, but I look at the clock on my wall and see that it's nearly seven.
I pull the blankets off my body and the first thing I want to do is look over at my phone, anticipation running through me in a foreign surge I've never felt before. I decide I don't want to seem too eager, but I also don't want to feel the disappointment by not finding a message fromher.
Weslyn.
Instead, I walk over to the bathroom to brush my teeth, comb back my hair, and put on some jeans and a t-shirt for the day. I have a loose meeting with a client later at noon, but it's casual and online so this attire will do. After securing my watch on my wrist, I head for the coffee maker and start a pot before then deciding to finally grab my phone.
I'm eager for some reason, mainly because I want to know her response to my last text, but when I look at my phone . . .no new messages.
