Gemotions

She checked the locks on the apartment door, again. The click of each tumbler echoed in the silent hallway. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside her window, sent a jolt of alarm through her. It was ridiculous, she knew. But “MidnightMuse,” her online confidante, lived two blocks away.

A text message: "Headed to the bookstore! Maybe I’ll see you there?" Her fingers trembled as she typed a reply, carefully crafting an excuse about being busy. She needed to know, needed to see.

She peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. Then, the elevator doors opened. A woman, her back to her, stepped out. She recognized the floral pattern of the woman's scarf - it was MidnightMuse's online profile picture.

She quickly slammed the door shut, sinking against it. Her blood felt like ice.