She scrolled through tumblr, passing the time,she had nothing to do, she could go to that sight, speak to him for the first time since he threatened to marry her, since he send her that awful story. She only appreciated his later work, this however was terrible, romantic, comical and soppy, he had written a love story, he knew she hated love, pathetic comedy, emotions! But oh how she loved little smart comments that hinted at psychopathic tendencies, she of course, loved when he wrote his fantasies, the ones where he brutally kills somebody, he adds detail that a normal writer couldn't begin to understand, but a killer, a killer knows these details, how the kill feels, how it thrills them, the texture of the blood and the flesh and the wounds from the perfect point of view. He gets it perfect every time and every fantasy is different, only one element is ever the same, the breasts are always bare and painted but always with new patterns, although they are always symmetrical, he adds symmetry in as he knows how she am obsessed with the idea.
She sends him her own but they are never close to as good, she has had little experience and hasn't been writing as long as he has.
