Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight; I don't.
But my words are my own.
BPOV
2.
I tap Messenger and swipe left.
His icon, complete with handsome face and glowing cheeks, still appears, but gone is the little phone and green dot.
Something's wrong.
My index finger hovers over his avatar as my brain catches on to this meaning.
Shakily, I push the space over his picture on my screen revealing our messages.
Facebook User displays at the top with no name attached. Our words are still there, but his image on this screen's now gone.
Only a ghostly outline remains.
Its eerie anonymity totally contradicts our meaningful exchanges—our banter and friendship.
I feel lost.
A/N:
Review me your thoughts.
Thank you to my wonderful beta, Chayasara.
Thank you for reading.
PAD