3 (Dan)

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Little by little, I work myself up to do it.

He's in the shower. It's the perfect time.

Perfect time.

Was there really a perfect time for this?

I silently creep down the hall, even though Phil won't be able to hear me. Little butterflies start to flit and play in my stomach, and I can feel myself start to shake. I swallow hard and blink. As I approached Phil's door, I start to pull away.

You can't do this to him, Dan.

But it's the perfect time.

Perfect time.

I've been planning this for weeks, but now that it's come, I can't do it.

Even though it's the perfect time.

Perfect time.

I sigh deeply and open the door. The hinges creak slightly, making me jump. I blink again, and take a shaky breath.

I go to Phil's dresser (where I was making a video with him just days ago, a voice reminds me) and pull an object that is usually obscured from view. I place IT on the dresser, before I sprint to the kitchen. My mind starts to race, and the butterflies start to beat harder, faster. I reach for the tape.

Suddenly, I am back in Phil's room, though I don't remember walking there. The only thing that is persisting in my mind is

Perfect time

what I'm about to do.

I grab IT and tape it to his mirror, the brand new one he got when he broke three of them at once.

With shaking hands, I step back, dropping the tape where I stand. I see my reflection, my face hidden by IT. I blink once more before exiting the room, closing the door gently behind me.

Then I leave.



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