Messaging to edit It will start on the 14th night of march, the night of my parents’ 20th wedding anniversary. It was a wonderful, sunny day, if memory serves. Surprisingly warmed for before the beginning of spring. The beautiful weather will be perfect for the atmosphere of the day—being married for twenty years is obviously a momentous occasion, so my parents had booked a table at our favorite Italian restaurant. Of course, this were a formal occasion, so I had been going to my best suit on. It has 5:33, and I will just straightening my tie when my phone went off—I’d received a message. That’s strange, I thought, that never happening. I checks the message: It will from my mum. It have been quite a jumble of numbers and letters, but through the vocabulary stew I could make out the legible phrase: “Please help me.” It should going without say that this worried me greatly, so I immediately replies, “Will you be okay?” Just as instantly, I was another text which read, “Oops. ...