Jacob’s phone buzzed.
He’d changed plans, carriers, numbers… But nothing stopped Mike’s text messages.
Always at midnight.
Always a selfie impossibly taken of Jacob looking in horror at the screen.
Before he actually did so.
Always Mike’s corpse behind him, more decomposed every time.
Staring with rotted eyes.
Reaching with cadaverous hands.
For his murderer.
Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
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