Page 6 of Devoted

I will eat them all head first, just to remind them of their place

I see how it is, you act all nice and sunshiney, but deep down you’re at home, cannibalising poor, innocent jellies. What’d they ever do to you?

they emptied my bank account, that’s what they did

This was why I liked chatting with Zeke. Our conversations were easy. Effortless. Sometimes a little wacky.

It wasn’t something I’d experienced often before.

Zeke

I didn’t know we could send pics on here

My hand froze, Jelly Baby halfway to my mouth. Shit, was he going to ask to see a picture of me? Or send one of him?

I dropped the sweet back into the packet and ran a hand through my hair. It wasn’t that I thought I was unattractive, but I sure as shit wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests. What if Zeke saw what I looked like and didn’t want to speak to me ever again? What if I’d accidentally cut him up once and he remembered and decided to sue me? What if?—

Stop.I took some steadying breaths.These are not your real thoughts.

Picturing each one like a balloon, I let them go, watching them drift away through the air. When I felt calm, I opened my eyes to see several messages from Zeke.

Zeke

every time I learn something about technology, I feel like something new crops up

shit, am I showing off how old I am now?

Sam? You there?

yep, I’ve done it. I’ve scared you away with my ancient ways and piss poor technological skills

RIP Sam and Zeke’s friendship. Please don’t send flowers. Jelly Babies are preferred

Just like that, I was laughing again. Seeing Zeke’s spiral, even if it was only a jokey one, had pulled me right out of my own.

Shaking my head, I was still chuckling as I typed my reply.

Sam

Fuck me, you’re melodramatic. I disappeared for TWO MINUTES

Zeke

I’m not melodramatic, I’m needy

And old, apparently

Balls. Should’ve known it’d show itself eventually

My fingers twitched over the keyboard as I debated asking the next question. In all our conversations, the only pieces of personal information we’d shared were our chat names and that we lived in London.

Fuck it, it couldn’t hurt…right?

I typed the question quickly before my OCD could grab hold of that thought and point out all the ways itcouldpotentially hurt.

Sam

how old is old? Are you sending these messages from your nursing home?

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