It's been two weeks, the messages hadn't stopped. She hadn't stopped receiving them. She would rather not stop receiving them because she liked the way each message was composed. Perhaps it was who composed it she liked, but would never admit it to herself.

Before going to bed, Alexia would expect it, and she always received it. Whenever she wakes in the morning, she checks her phone first and indeed, his messages are waiting for her on the phone.

It felt so ...