I exhale harshly, my chest tightening as I consider how far I want to push for answers today. It’s a fine line to walk… Wanting to know who this is and also just sitting back and enjoying the attention I don’t ever allow myself.
Eris:
Do you anticipate me logging in or track it?
Locke:
Yes.
Why are you so quiet?
Eris:
I’m thinking.
Locke:
About me?
Eris:
About what you are.
The cursor winks at me, but the text bubbles pause for too long.
I imagine someone reading my words—someone, not something—and deciding how much truth to give me. Is the price pennies or gold?
How much am I worth?
Locke:
Define what.
Eris:
Real. Not real.
One person or several.
A mirror or a monster.
I don’t know.
The next reply takes longer than the last.
Locke:
What if I’m all of them?
Or what if I’m only ever what you need of them?
My throat tightens as I reread the message. It damn near convinces me it’s a confession… But it’s not enough.
Eris:
That sounds like a lie wrapped in sweet words meant to mimic a twisted love.
Locke:
