Cold fingers

She shut the door, slung her bag across her shoulders and raced down the spiral of stairs that led to the narrow street behind the modern apartment block. She had a spring in her step. In her dreams, the past and the present had fused beautifully, forming a kaleidoscope of what she thought her future could look like. It was a beautiful sight.

Then she saw him standing across the street. In the mini-second it took to register his slight, crooked form and take one step in backward retreat, he was already upon her, squeezing her neck in his cold fingers.


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