A Purple Smiley Face

Predator

Yves receives a letter.

It's not like all the others she's used to; no fancy penmanship and words too superfluous, or crisp folds of a signature with a cringe sign of "- love, your secret admirer."

Nothing like the ones she's eager to read, curt notes of appearances and typical routes a target will take, or the fun challenges her handler likes to give- "aim with your eyes closed," or "be a little messier; make them feel like you're losing your touch."

The letter's written on loose leaf, folded with crinkles and jagged lines that look like repeated mistakes before finally settling.

Yves didn't think she'd ever have to read a letter written with a purple crayon.

(Hello, Miss!

You're so pretty. I'm glad you're my new neighbor. My mommy thinks you're pretty too. She says she's going to talk to you and bring blueberry muffins one day so you won't want to leave because we'll be friends, but it's already been 2 days.

I'm writing this letter so it's not going to be 3.

Talk to you later!

- Your Penpal,

:D Choerry.)

First thing that comes to mind is that they spelled 'Cherry' wrong.

Second, does the mother know?

And third, they're now penpals?

Yves snorts. The kid is eloquent enough, at least. Proper grammar (besides the word 'cherry') and punctuation. Even if it's all in that horrible thick purple crayon that it's hard to discern between an 'e' and a 'c'.

She'll forgive the disgusting penmanship if only because it's amusing to hear the implication of bribery just to make her stay.

Yves chuckles, folding the letter neatly back into the purple envelope before going off to continue rinsing her blood-soaked dress shirt.

It wouldn't hurt to read it again before bed.

-

The kid has purple hair.

Yves blames her for why she's now thinking of a fake dinosaur who likes to sing about family.

She's just stepped out, off to work and clicking the door shut when she hears a yelp, quiet thuds followed by her mailbox clanking shut, catching tiny feet scurrying away behind her wooden fence.

Innocent eyes and a purple envelope peek above the gate.

No doubt the kid is waiting for her to go so she could leave the letter. She wonders if her mother knew what she was up to at times like these.

Yves figures it wouldn't hurt to indulge in the little girl's curiosity, sending a brief wave at her, smiles when she sees a hand hesitantly rise behind the fence, waving back with the envelope.

Later, as expected, she comes home to find the letter inevitably in her mailbox, along with an extra note scribbled at the end:

(You weren't supposed to see me!

:(

But you waved at me so it's okay! Welcome back!

- Your Penpal,

:D Choerry.)

-

The next time Yves sees her neighbor, it isn't just Choerry.

She catches a flurry of purple hair and tiny legs dashing off for the school bus, haphazard wave thrown over her shoulder before she's climbing up the stairs and disappearing behind the door.