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Unwanted Offerings

"Emily Hartley, who am I unto?" Her harmless voice spoke into the device, her thoughts centred around who the caller might be.

There was a soft cough, and somehow it bothered her that she took a call from an unsaved number. This person, whoever it was, had called for a while, since the night before from what she saw when she got up from her sleep early this morning.

She had tried to reach back to him or her, but somehow it wasn't connecting and she let it be.

Why should she care?

What does he or she want? It was a man.

Who else stalked in this manner?

"Emily," she heard a man's voice this time. "Emily Hartley." He said this time, coughing again.

Her jaws dropped.

That voice.

It was deep—familiar, sort of. And for a moment, she took the phone off her ears to take a look at the number.

"Who am I unto?"

"How are you doing?" This person she recognized, instead of giving replies to her question, threw his question at her.

Who cared this much about her? "I am doing well, how are you t
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