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 creepi
