Fits Stories

It's been three weeks since the night at the car wash. I am confident Kevin was not the person viewing the security camera; he's been blissfully unaware. But I am anything but blissful. The memory of that night races through my head and the paranoia of precisely who was watching. I need to know. I pull up Gio's number and text, "Hey Gio, hope everything is going well at the car wash. I want to talk. The security camera ha...