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Jason:Ready for my first question?

Sloan:Ready.

Jason:Why don’t you paint what you want to paint?

I stared at the text. I hadn’t been expecting that.

Had he asked it to throw me off? Had my weirdness over my art shone through in our brief conversation yesterday? I let out a deep breath. Now I kind of wished there were just yes and no boxes to check.

I decided to deflect him.

Sloan:Really? This question? Seems like a waste. You get a do-over.

Jason:Don’t want a do-over.

And then,

Jason:Wouldn’t mind a picture though.

My lips pursed. “Fine,” I muttered to myself.

Sloan:I haven’t painted my own works since my fiancé died two years ago.

The dots started to jump. Then they stopped. Then they started again.

Jason:I’m sorry to hear that.

There was a pause between texts while he typed again.

Jason:Sometimes the hardest place to live is the one in-between.

I blinked at the message.

“Yes…” I whispered.

The dots started bouncing again.

Jason:Your turn. What’s your question?

I was glad he was changing the subject. I didn’t want to talk about this. I thought about my question and decided I’d have a little fun with it.

Sloan:How would you survive a zombie apocalypse?

The dots jumped for several minutes. Then a text pinged, but just three words came through.

Jason:I’m calling you.

The phone rang.

“Well?” I said, answering without saying hello.

“My answer is too long to text.”

“You’ve given the zombie apocalypse that much thought, huh?”

“Haven’t you? It’s a serious situation,” he said sternly.

“Only a matter of time, really.”