Literature
The Flinch Who Stole Valentine's
His apartment was on the twelfth floor. It had a balcony. From the street, Matilda looked up, saw her friend leaning on the railing, waved at him. Julio raised his hand, the bare minimum needed to acknowledge her. He made a perfect silhouette against the light coming from inside. For a moment Matilda wished she had her camera. This would make such a pretty picture, Portrait of a Lonely Man.
She dialed his number. It would be impolite to invite herself to his flat without contacting him, and she hated the impersonal style of text messages.
"Your call has been forwarded..." the computerized voice said flatly. As if she had expected him to res