Hopeful. Inspiring. Reviving.
I work so hard. I sacrifice so much time to create.
“Do you have PayPal?” she asks.
“Yes, I do.”
“Awesome, show me the QR code so I can scan it quickly. Idon’t want to keep you too long. You already have a line of people excited to meet you!”
“You’re not keeping me at all. One second, let me just…” I fumble with my purse. I unzip my purse and fumble through my wallet and receipts before my fingers land on my cell. When I take it out, my face drops, goosebumps break out on my skin from head to toe, and my stomach knots as my blood runs cold.
Unknown:
How are you liking Sleepy Coldwater, Alaska, Coraline? Red lipstick looks good on you. Congrats on selling out again. I’ll see you very soon.
CHAPTER 4
CORALINE
Istare at the screen, my hands trembling. My thumb hovers over the keypad, shaking as my breath catches in my throat. Everything is blurry as I process the words, re-reading them over and over again because I’m trying to convince myself this isn’t real.
There are no digits attached to the message.
I thought these weird threatening messages were going to stop.
I brush my bottom lip with my fingers. I hold them in front of me, not remembering what shade of lipstick I put on before I came here.
Please don’t be red.
My heart drops to my clenched gut when I see the staple holiday red shade deep in the crevices of my fingers.
Is someone watching me? Is he or she here? Is this the same person who left that weird letter in my mailbox? How do they know about me selling out again? How do they know I’m here in Alaska? Specifically, Sleepy Coldwater…
Blood rushes to my ears, and everyone and everything gets tuned out as I lock my knees.
This can’t be happening.
I can’t be getting stalked.
But it’s real. I do have a stalker. It’s happening, and all logic gets thrown out of the window as I try to process this.
“Is there something wrong, Cora?” Harper asks, concern painting her tone.
My brows knit together as I grind my molars until it hurts. Before I turn to her, I swipe and report it as spam. I refuse to let anything or anyone ruin this day. It’s just a sick joke.
“Yes, everything is fine. Here’s my QR code,” I say, clicking on the app.
“Thank you,” she chirps. Her cellphone camera aims at my screen.
“Hey, Harper, did you tell anyone else about my art being bought out?”
“Nope.” She taps her screen faster. “Just you, Cora! Alright, I’m going to get going. Payment sent!”
The event went amazingly.
But now, I’m rushing.
I’m supposed to be at the airport in an hour, or I’m going to miss my flight. Before I left, I walked down the street and decided to rent a small sedan. There were no taxis or Uber’s available to take me all the way to the Anchorage Airport because of the storm, so I’m trusting myself to get there on my own.
