It’s Just Me: page two:

Why did it feel like I was on the set of a horror movie?

Darkness reached for me. The air cold and damp.

I stepped closer to the light within. The signal died, or jumped, or maybe the fuckers were turning the tower off?

Paranoid?

Fuck it.

I stepped through the door, closed it quietly, and locked it. Locking it amused me, but I left it locked. 

At any minute, a possum might climb up onto the deck roof and then up to the balcony and wrangle the door open. 

A smile crossed my lips. I caught my reflection in the glass.

My phone was open in my hand and still searching for the long lost signal. I knew it wouldn’t find one now, not inside.

I plonked myself in a wicker chair and began flicking through the pictures on my phone. Some of Rowan. Candid shots that made me smile. Some of the beach and the jellyfish I found that morning. Mac.

Mac.

His dark hair in his eyes and a cheeky smile on his face. How the hell did Mac get on my phone?

I checked the folder the pictures were in. They weren’t, they were all ones still in my camera not saved to my phone. The picture was taken with my phone.

I studied the picture looking for clues or hoping an answer would bounce out of it and knock on my head. 

Behind Mac, I saw a hint of water and drift wood. The photo was right after the jellyfish photograph.

What happened next?

I moved some logs from the front of the path up to the house. Hot work. I took off my fleece jacket and lay it on the up-turned dingy. My phone was in the pocket.