She looks up from the phone screen, biting her lip, then thumbs the icon to read the message. “How long until you get home, honey?” with a heart sits next to a time display of 27:22. By her reckoning, the nightmare she’s just walked through has taken no more than about forty-five minutes, and even though she does use the twenty-four hour clock, what kind of time is 27:22, anyway?
She might as well go somewhere, so she begins walking toward the diamond-studded water, noticing that without the bustling city blocks she’s used to, it seems a longer distance away. Nothing has been right since she arrived in this thrice-cursed city, if that’s even where she still is — miserable job, an armpit of an apartment, raging panic and insomnia. Her eyes feel like they’re about to pull completely back inside her head, she’s so exhausted, and she wonders how long it’s been since she’s slept.
Mykl Roventine 2009, CC
This is a Six Sentence Stories installment. The cue was “long.” Notice how I got it in there three times?
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