"Jane. Listen to yourself. You sound like a crazy woman."
I glare at Mark and he laughs again. Some days I swear all he knows how to do is laugh.
"It's just a picture. Probably someone in this school who is madly in love with you and trying to win your heart with kittens."
"Mark," I growl, halting and making him look at me. He's smiling, but his brown eyes are tender and concerned. Maybe even sad. "This isn't a crush. This is an... obsession." I rub my gritty eyelids.
"Did you try responding?"
"Yes." For weeks. I tried to tell them they had the wrong number, asked them to stop, pleaded. Looked up the number in the phone book, even. Nothing worked.
"Maybe it means something," I mumble.
He laughs and puts an arm around me. "It means someone needs to talk to a therapist. And by someone I mean you."