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Her laughter flutters through the phone. “I don’t want you tame when you come over tonight. I want you banging down my door, ready to tear my clothes to shreds.”
I stare down at my swollen crown. “That won’t be a problem.”
“And James?”
“Yes, beautiful?”
“Bring your bossy pants.”
Phoenix
Daily Affirmation: “I am giving myself permission to grow into the person I know I’m meant to be.”
“Slow down, boy. Easy. I have to get the mail.”
I pull back on Wilbur’s leash. I’ve been taking him on runs with me, and it seems like he’s getting stronger by the day.
“Bill, bill, another bill.” I sift through the mail until I spot a blank envelope. No name, no stamp, or return address.
I tear it open and pull out a white folded sheet of paper. My jaw drops when I unfold it. It’s a sketch.
Of me.
Soft pencil strokes make up my hair and facial features, fading into the edge of the paper at the bottom of my neck. It looks exactly like me.
Whoever drew this is incredibly talented. But who would do this? Can James draw? And why would he give me a picture of myself? Why would he stick it in my mailbox?
Something low sounds in the back of my mind, like a faraway siren.
A warning.
Unease creeps into my gut.
I tug Wilbur’s leash and hurry inside to call James.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hi.” I unclip Wilbur’s leash and hang it on the hook by the door. “How’s work?”
“Just counting the hours until I can see you.”
Someone makes kissing noises in the background, followed by a loud, “Ouch! That hurt, fucker.”
I laugh. “Hi, Phil.”
“Hi, Phoenix. Got a hot sister or cousin for me?”
“No, but I have a brother.”
“Not into men, but thanks anyway.”
James grunts. “All right, let me get back to work.”
I pull at the string on my hoodie. “Hey, did you leave a picture in my mailbox?”
“A picture?”
“Like a drawing.”
