Polaroid Pictures
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- Parts 3
Ongoing6m
Last published Sat, Jan 25, 2020
When the first polaroid arrived at my door stop early morning, I assumed it was an early Christmas card, or maybe an invitation to a distant relatives wedding.
The paper was crisp in my hand, and judging from the small damp patch on the back, I assumed it had only just be licked and sealed shut.
Tearing it open, I looked down at the polaroid, and back up to the empty street. Everything was silent...except for my thumping heart.
It was a picture of me, standing close to the headstone of my dead brother. Ten years ago my brother died in a freak car accident with some other kids.
In the distance, someone stood close, watching.
Adrian.
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