It's happening again
It feels like it's happening again. Only this time, I know ahead of time. This morning I watched the clock, knowing that sometime late morning he went to the bookstore and bought a couple of books. I have been dreading 10:18 pm all day. I know, at 10:18 pm, he made his last phonecall. I know he made 100 phonecalls everyday. Then at 10:18 pm, it all stopped. Now I am just here, feeling sick, wishing I had a bottle of something to start drinking. I don't know any more times after 10:18, but I have reasons to think 12:09 a.m. holds significance.
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