The sky had turned a darker shade of purple than the violets I’d picked for my bouquet. Essence had said those were her favorite color in our chats. I checked the time on my phone. She should’ve arrived well over half an hour ago. Most restaurants would have closed by now, and the next showing of the movie I’d picked would not be until tomorrow.
Where was she?
I sent her another message. No response. The waning moon was almost halfway up in the sky. Still no response. I could make out a few stars overhead despite the streetlights’ glow, and the passing cars were dwindling in frequency. Still no response.
That wasn’t like Essence. She’d always been good about getting back to me within seconds on the app. The dread was shaking me up. I had to call her.
Still no response. Not even a ring.
Maybe she was stuck in traffic. Rush hour had long passed, but I was desperate.
I called her again. Nothing.
Was something wrong with her? Was her phone dead? Why hadn’t she kept it charged?
I shouldn’t preoccupy myself with worry. Better to think of all the positives instead. We had so many great conversations. About her studies in English literature, about her cute little dachshund, about her equally adorable niece. How she liked strawberry cheesecake and gospel music, how her last ex had hurt her so badly, and how she thought I was the most sensitive man she’d ever met. In turn, I could tell her everything about myself, and no matter what was bugging me, she knew how I should deal with it and how to cheer me up.
Of course, if her photos on the app were anything to go by, she was as beautiful on the outside as the inside. I should dig them up.
Footsteps clipped on the sidewalk. My stomach fluttered with delight. That had to have been Essence. But why had she not called or texted me first?
It was not Essence. Too tall, too big and stocky, too clad in black, and much, much too white to be her. Whiter than me, even. The tattoos on his hand stood out like black clouds in front of the moon. As he regarded me with eyes as gray and sharp as the steel blade in his grip, he grinned with a show of bejeweled teeth.
“Waiting patiently for your Nubian queen, eh, Dylan?” the man said with a thick Russian accent.