[ LOCAL TIME 13:16 ]
The images around me come in phases, and to some point of honesty I'm not really sure what parts are real. At one point there was darkness, and then the image of my clothes stained with blood from my forearm seemed far too real to be reality. Then, after the scene blurs again, I see Nathan. His brunette was messy and ruffled as he reached for the doors of the next floor. When I look down, I see my arm wrapped in his black zip-up sweatshirt. I try to make a noise. Anything, but nothing comes from my voice.
Nathan curls his palm into a fist and slams against the elevator doors.
"Can anyone hear me?!"
There's a pound on the door in return.
[- ✈ -]
YOU ARE READING
Last Flight Home [completed]
Short StoryIt was one thing having an extended layover at the airport on a major holiday. It was another thing to have searing-hot coffee spilt all over my white shirt. And maybe it was another thing to get stuck in an elevator with an arrogant college student...
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