Texts From Him || Timothée Chalamet

10

—
Winnie got ready for work between helping her mother to the lounge and fixing her with some breakfast and seven different medications. Today she seemed okay–some mornings the pain wouldn't let her keep anything down and in those cases she wouldn't eat. On the days when it was really bad, Winnie would leave her in bed. Those days were becoming more frequent. But today, thankfully, she seemed okay.

On the bus to work, Winnie let herself get lost in her thoughts. In being rather certain that T was not someone from her real life, other worries arised. How old was he? He could be sixty for all she knew. Who was T? She really wanted to know. But she also didn't want to lose hold of the situation–she enjoyed it, texting with him. He wouldn't give her his name, but maybe he would give her other clues.

Her curiosity was killing many cats.

She pondered over the wording of her next question to him, unsure of how to put it. She didn't want to come across as shallow. She decided to go with her inital thought, and trust that he understood it was genuine curiosity.
—

Winnie:
What do you look like?

—
When there was no response in the following few minutes, Winnie put her phone away. It wasn't until her lunch break that she saw she'd received a reply. She was both disapointed and relieved to not find a photo from him.
—

T:
You just wanna know who to dream about :p
Dark hair, green eyes, eyebrows
On the lanky side.

Winnie:
Eyebrows? That's crazy.
And no, not for my dreams. Just had to be sure you're not an old bald dude.

T:
Yeah got two of them.
Just give me 5 decades and I'll be your old bald dude.

—
Winnie held back a laugh, glancing either side of her desk, checking that she'd not captured the attention of her colleagues.

Guess that confirms he's not in his sixties.
—