17

Nerthus

The next morning, I find Jenna already gone. All she left is a little note at the coffee machine.

At least something.

It states that she had to leave to get ready for another appointment and I try to think nothing into it, even though it kind of hurts me.

As I get ready to go home, it just gets worse. I get text after text from clients cancelling their appointments or from my boss, telling me that someone just cancelled. I have multiple calls with her as she asks me what is happening.

I would like to know too.

This can’t be a coincidence anymore. In a timely range of two to three hours, my week is practically cleaned out with only one still standing prominently.

Rodberg on Wednesday night.

Slipping into my coat, I shake my head as if wanting to get rid of the thought creeping into my mind.

I get on the street and hail a cab to get home. During the drive home, I have a bad feeling and suddenly find myself watching my back. Realizing what I am doing, I giggle to mysel