The world seemed a lot stranger now.
A couple of weeks had passed and Cynthia was no closer to finding Marc. She'd even gone back to where she met him. The foot was still festering there, swarming with detritus feeders such as maggots and worms.
Even Cynthia had recoiled at the sight of it.
And hacking into the hospital records system hadn't brought back any results either! Indeed they'd been wiped.
Cynthia was exhausted. As she sat at the breakfast bar back at her flat she examined all she'd found of Marc so far: a ripped shirt sleeve of what had been his hoodie.
And she wasn't even that sure it was his.
Groaning she slid off the stool onto the floor and lay, spread-eagled, for a minute.
Then... tap.
Jumping off from the floor, Cynthia sprinted to the door and yanked it open. There was a note.
The handwriting wasn't as scraggly as before; nor was it in red. The paper had life's watermark in the corner and Cynthia nearly tore it up in frustration if it weren't for two things:
1 - It was Marc's handwriting, and
2 - It said "Check Your Inbox."
YOU ARE READING
Working Progress
ActionA story about a girl whose life doesn't seem to give her any answers, and where life itself wants to control her. Needless to say she tries to rebel against it's plan for her.
