Mr. Wrong Number (Mr. Wrong Number, #1)

by Lynn Painter

I traversed the apartment in underpants and a too-small shirt like some sort of Winnie-the-Pooh variety of dipshit.

Listen, I have to go. I’m literally standing on the sidewalk and texting like I’m a teenager. Mr. Wrong Number: Holy shit—did I ever ask? You’re not a teenager, are you??? Me: Relax, I’m 25. You’re … not a baby either, right? Mr. Wrong Number: 29 so you’re safe. Me: Although really, it’s not like we’re sexting or anything. It technically wouldn’t even matter if we weren’t of age. Mr. Wrong Number: … sending dick pic … Me: I will block you so fast. Unless you’ve got some sort of … special gift. Then I will block you, but slowly.