Today I bagged groceries for four hours. My hands reek of cardboard paper and plastic. A little boy told me I looked like a zombie because of the dark circles under my eyes.
The dream keeps coming back to me. Every single night, it's always the same: Inky water. Fog. A sense of urgency.
As if my subconscious is trying to tell me something.
YOU ARE READING
Out of Ink | A Short Story
Short Story❝What if he didn't leave ... what if he disappeared?❞ highest rank: #27 in SS 1st place for Best Tragedy in the Crystal Awards 2016/2017 2nd place for Short Story in the Crystal Awards 2016/2017