Monday, 24 August 2020

Alba’s lie in



by Lisa Williams

whisky sour 

The rumble of thunder woke her, not her usual alarm. The room felt odd, the air smelt different, like it wasn’t her apartment. She reached for her phone, her hand found a collection of pill bottles that toppled from the nightstand.

As she sat up a sense of dread crept across her skin. 

Late for work.

A vague remembering of the day before. 

She grabbed clothes on her way to the bathroom. Her phone lay smashed on a kitchen worktop, she didn’t notice the missing knife in the block. 

It was next to the bath.

Where her lifeless body lay.

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