I guess since that won’t ever happen, I can be honest with her.
It’s not like she knows who I am. Keeping it anonymous is almost a little…freeing.
Why shouldn’t I use this chance to get a little insight?
Dropping to my butt on the old wooden floor, I let my legs dangle over the heads of my eating horses and pull out my phone.
TheBigO: Send me your craziest favorite book. The one that you’d never admit to someone you know that you’d read.
RacingQueen: Feeling daring? Secret agent stories starting to get boring? I knew I’d hook you on the smut, mwahahaha.
TheBigO: I’m ready to learn something new. Might be time.
RacingQueen: You have to promise to keep me posted. Tomorrow is going to be really shitty here, so your play by play can distract me.
I glance out through the big bay doors at a bright and sunny day. Cold as fuck, but beautiful. Kinda makes me wonder whereabouts she’s located that’s going to storm.
TheBigO: Nasty weather makes for good reading days?
RacingQueen: I wish it was that.
Staring at the screen, part of me wants to push more out of curiosity. How far should I toe that line of keeping this just about fiction?
TheBigO: Then you have to promise to check in so I know you’re safe.
There’s not a thing in the world I could do if she decided to log off and never return. It’s not like I even have her number.
Or name.
Hell, what part of the country she’s in.
RacingQueen: You’re sweet. Moral support welcomed.
Huh. Well, that makes me feel slightly better.
TheBigO: Did you want to talk about it? Er, text?
RacingQueen: I lost someone very close to me and the services are in the morning.
Shit. I don’t know how to help with that.
TheBigO: I’m sorry. I hope you have a support system? A friendly hug to help?
RacingQueen: I do. My dad and my best friend will be there. And my brother. Hug accepted.
Warmth races through my chest despite the chilled air.
That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but I’m glad she took it that way. Then the tiny red heart emoji that pops up afterwards makes me pause.
We’ve been chatting almost constantly for days. Mostly about the stories we’re reading, yet some things have worked their way in.
Every morsel she drops makes me want to learn more.
She hasn’t mentioned her mom.
Oh fuck, is that who’s funeral she’s going to?
I know that pain.
