I scroll up rapidly and see that my first text to her wasn’t actually at the top. She must have created this before responding to me! Fingers swiping to get back to the bottom, I see she isn’t done with what she’s doing to me.
A: [This one too - from when we were walking. Only had a couple seconds to know I was taking it.]
This photo shows me mid-conversation away from the restaurant, gesturing with a smug smile because of something I’d just replied to. There’s something slightly alive and further confident in my expression that I rarely see in mirrors on my own.
A: [You’re going to kill it at the interview. Speaking of which, let me text my colleague now while I remember...]
K: [Interview?]
C: [Anise, it’s late. Can’t this wait until morning?]
> And in private. I don’t understand why she thought doing this was alright! Something that burns, something that is likely to be snuffed out, and also- <
BK: [I’m surprised you didn’t just go with ’Brown Eyes’, but this might be better. Even more personal.]
Turns out I have no privacy. What freedom? There’s a BoundaryKeeper as warden to this white cage.
BK: [Her eyes do get that stuttering orange when she’s... well, mad usually. Though I think you are giving her some *other* emotions if it’s you that is the one seeing it!]
C: [Go to bed. I’m not going to respond again to you tonight.]
BK: [Yes, Mrs. Voss. Sorry, Mrs. Voss. Hey, actually, did you know that both your last names mean-]
My eyes close and I set the device a little too quickly onto the nightstand. Do people really use these devices to do nothing other than get some sort of rise out of each other? With a growl, I pick it back up to make sure I didn’t break the screen.
Swiping down the notification panel as a test, I see that I have messages from two other chats. Anise rambled on for a bit by herself about her colleague before saying [Oh, look at the time.]
But direct from Kyrie is... a picture. A selfie, whose terrible lighting and angle is sent to the back of my mind by the content. Laying back on a red silken pillow, a set of matching sheets while holding the camera up high above her.
Pointed down at herself, eyes glowing orange right toward the lens. But her face is not so centered and her arms are long. Which leaves the bottom half of the photo that dries my throat again.
Showing off that charcoal gray bra I didn’t get to see, supporting the parts of her I haven’t yet touched. My screen reflects a blue glow that has nothing to do with the system.
K: [I may dream of you again, and it will be a very pleasant one this time. Goodnight, Princess.]