Page 39 of Pose for Me

The article mentions that the details of how the victim died can’t be disclosed but it has been confirmed it's the same killer who's been terrorizing the town for over a week now, striking seemingly at random. The police are urging citizens to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activity.

I lean back in my chair, mind whirling. Knox had mentioned something about a scene when he showed up at my studio earlier. This must have been what he was referring to. Another body, another victim of this ruthless killer.

My thoughts drift to Knox and River. These men who have shown me such passion and intensity, who stalk me with a predatory focus, are the same ones tasked with bringing this killer to justice. The weight of responsibility must be immense, knowing that with each passing day, another life hangs in the balance. I find myself longing to offer them comfort, to ease the burden they carry.

I close down the article with a heavy sigh before turning off the computer. For a moment, I sit in the stillness, listening to the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sounds of traffic filtering in from outside. The shadows in the corners of the room seem to deepen, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Shaking my head to dispel the paranoia, I gather my things and make my way to the door.

The lock clicks into place with a reassuring finality as I secure the studio. I double-check it, tugging on the handle just to be sure. Satisfied, I climb the stairs to my apartment, my footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell.

As I unlock and push open my apartment door, I'm greeted by an indignant meow. Luna sits in the middle of the entryway, her tail swishing back and forth in clear annoyance. Her amber eyes seem to glare accusingly at me as I step inside.

"I know, I know," I murmur, bending down to scratch behind her ears. "I've been neglecting you lately, haven't I? I’ve been a bad cat mom."

Luna allows the affection for a moment before sauntering away, her posture radiating disdain. I can't help but chuckle at her attitude. She's certainly not shy about expressing her displeasure at being left alone more often this past week.

With a sigh, I make my way to the kitchen, flicking on lights as I go. The warm glow chases away the lingering shadows, making the space feel more welcoming. I open the fridge, surveying its contents with a critical eye. After the day I've had, I deserve something nice for dinner.

I pull out an assortment of ingredients–fresh spinach, cherry tomatoes, a wedge of feta cheese, and a package of chicken breasts. A salad with grilled chicken sounds perfect, light yet satisfying. As I reach for a bottle of balsamic glaze on the top shelf, my eyes fall on a stack of unfamiliar cans.

Frowning, I pull one down to examine it. It's cat food, but not the usual brand I buy for Luna. This is the expensive stuff, the kind I've seen in specialty pet stores but always considered too pricey for everyday use. There are at least a dozen cans, neatly stacked and waiting.

I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. "Really, River?" I mutter to myself. "Are you sneakily bribing my cat?"

Despite my exasperation, I can't help but feel a warmth blooming in my chest at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. It's such a small thing, but it speaks volumes.

I set the can of gourmet cat food on the counter, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "Well, Luna," I call out, "looks like you're in for a treat tonight."

I pop open the can, the strong aroma of salmon and tuna filling the air. Luna materializes as if summoned, her tail held high in anticipation. I scoop the food into her bowl, the pâté-like consistency a far cry from her usual kibble.

"Don't get used to this," I warn her as I set the bowl down. "And you can thank River for your fancy dinner, miss priss. Apparently, he's determined to win over both females in this household."

Luna dives in with gusto, purring loudly as she devours her meal. I watch her for a moment, amused by her enthusiasm. "At least one of us is easy to please," I mutter, turning back to my own dinner preparations.

I set about grilling the chicken, the sizzle and pop of meat hitting the hot pan filling the kitchen. The scent of herbs and garlic mingles with the lingering aroma of Luna's dinner, creating an odd but not unpleasant combination. As the chicken cooks, I assemble the salad, tearing crisp spinach leaves and halving plump cherry tomatoes.

Once the chicken is done, I let it rest for a few minutes before slicing it into perfect, juicy strips. I arrange them atop the salad, then crumble feta cheese over the whole affair. A drizzle of balsamic glaze completes the dish, the dark syrup creating abstract patterns across the colorful ingredients.

With dinner plated, I turn my attention to the wine River left in the fridge. The bottle or Prosecco is already chilled to perfection. I pour myself a generous glass, the pale golden liquid catching the light as it swirls in the glass.

Luna gives me a reproachful look as I take a sip. "Oh, don't judge me," I murmur to her. "You got gourmet cat food tonight.”

I carry my meal to the living room, settling onto the plush cushions of my couch. Luna, having finished her own dinner, hops up to join me, curling into a contented ball at my side. I take a bite of the salad, savoring the interplay of flavors.

As I eat, my eyes keep drifting to the kitchen, where I know the bakery box sits in the fridge. The apple pie cupcake River left for me calls out like a siren song, tempting me with promises of sugary indulgence. I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on my healthy dinner. "Later," I promise myself, though I'm not entirely convinced.

With my plate cleared and my first glass of wine finished, I pour myself another. I flip through streaming services, searching for something to watch. After several minutes of indecision, I finally settle on an old favorite–a romantic comedy I've seen a dozen times before. The familiar plot is comforting, requiring little mental effort to follow. I sink deeper into the plush cushions, letting the tension of the day slowly seep from my muscles.

Luna stretches and repositions herself, draping her warm body across my lap. Her purr rumbles through me, a soothing vibration that seems to resonate in my very bones. I stroke her soft fur absently, marveling at the silky texture beneath my fingertips.

The movie plays on, its predictable twists and turns unfolding on the screen. The leading lady's quirky best friend delivers a witty one-liner, and I find myself chuckling despite having heard the joke before. The wine has left a pleasant warmth in my chest, softening the edges of the world and making everything feel just a little bit hazy.

As the movie progresses, I sink deeper into the comforting warmth of the couch. The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a gentle, flickering light, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The familiar dialogue becomes a soothing murmur in the background, blending with the steady hum of the air conditioning and Luna's contented purrs.

On screen, the movie's climax unfolds–the typical misunderstanding that threatens to tear the main couple apart. But I know how it ends. They'll work it out, declare their love in some grand romantic gesture, and live happily ever after.

If only real life were so simple.

My fingers trace lazy patterns through Luna's fur, her warmth seeping into my lap like a living, breathing heating pad. Her whiskers twitch occasionally in her sleep, and I wonder what cats dream about. Chasing mice? Exploring sun-dappled gardens? Or perhaps she's dreaming of the gourmet meal she just devoured, courtesy of River.

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