Alex’s handbag beeped again. With a sigh, she yanked it open, grabbed her phone and scrolled through the new messages – there were six of them.
have fun in town!
miss u already!
cant wait 2cul8r!
u b home by 3?
its nrly 3! not heard from u!
CALL ME DAMNIT!!!
Bloody hell! She’d only been out for an hour.
Gritting her teeth, Alex went to stuff her phone back in her handbag, but paused as she caught sight of a poster. It read:
“BEWARE. PICKPOCKETS OPERATING IN THE MARKET. KEEP YOUR VALUABLES IN A SAFE PLACE.”
Finally Alex smiled. “Perfect,” she thought, and, poking her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, she turned toward the stalls.
Natalie Bowers is a fiction writer, perpetual student and professional volunteer who lives in the south of England with her husband, two children and a growing collection of ukuleles. A gregarious loner and shameless eavesdropper, she can often be found haunting the dark recesses of coffee shops and cafes, her pencil poised above paper.