Texts From Him || Timothée Chalamet

5

Unknown number:
How was your day, miss S?

Winnie:
How do you know I'm a girl?

Unknown number:
A lucky guess :p

—
Winnie scrolled up the long chain of text messages and couldn't find anything that gave away her gender. In fact, she found she'd been quite blunt most of the time. Short replies of disinterest. She wasn't a pleasant person to text. Yet he persisted.

She felt a bit guilty but she shrugged the feeling aside. She didn't know who he was after all.
—

Winnie:
Tell me about you.

Unknown number:
A question for a question?

Winnie:
Deal.
What's your favourite color?

Unknown number:
You can do better than that.

—
Winnie scoffed. So he wanted to dive straight into the deep end. He was willing to be a lot more vulnerable than she'd initially speculated.

She thought for a moment.
—

Winnie:
Who do you hate?

Unknown number:
People who walk slow in front of me on the footpath.

—
She found the element of humour in his answer but it wasn't the one she was looking for. Winnie decided to prod further, using his line from moments before.
—

Winnie:
You can do better than that.

Unknown number:
Fair play.
I hate some of the people I have to work with.

Winnie:
Why?

Unknown number:
It's my turn ;)

What holds you back?

—
Winnie freezed, her thumbs hesitating before the keyboard. She knew the answer but should she tell the endearing stranger? Although she felt like he knew her, she was most certain that she didn't know him. If she remained vague, what was there to lose?

Her mind went to her mother who she'd tucked into bed minutes before hopping into her own. She typed out her answer

My mom.

Winnie stared at the words, not convinced enough to send them. Her mom didn't hold her back. Her sickness wasn't her fault. It held the both of them back. She erased the words and retyped her answer.
—

Winnie:
My mom's illness.

Unknown number:
I'm sorry. What is the situation?

Winnie:
Well, I live with her.
And care for her.
She has ovarian cancer.

—
Winnie put her phone facedown, taking a moment for herself. How easy it was to vent to a stranger.

Aside from her two friends, no one knew about her mom. She never told anyone—she kept away from the subject. It wasn't something she wanted pity for. And for some reason she'd volunteered the information about her personal life to her mystery texter. She wanted to delete the messages but she knew he'd already seen them.

Maybe she should block him. But what good would that do now? He already knew. And on the chance that he was someone she knew in real life, blocking him could escalate things in a bad way...

Her phone vibrates, capturing her attention.
—

Unknown number:
You may not know me
But it doesn't mean I can't be there for you.