June 6, 2020

It’s already 11:38. Tonight is freaking cold even though it’s almost summer. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been spelled out for me, though.

“I just finished my shift; the graveyard shift at the drugstore down the block. I’ve made it through the day, and all I want is to go home and get some shut-eye. I know it’s Saturday and all, but I won’t fool around. Tomorrow’s my mama’s birthday. She’s 50 years old; I really want to be there for her.”

I should have put it down; gotten rid of it. But my house is just around the corner. Some people call it a safe-haven, whatever. I ain’t the one for fancy words, but I get it now.

“Look, I’m not a reader, alright? I hadn’t picked up a book since high school. Actually, scratch that – I’m pretty sure I didn’t pick up a book even while I was in high school. Books ain’t my thing. I only got this one to impress that chick, Lily I think she said her name was. She said she worked at this book shop; that I should stop by sometime. Recommended this book specifically too, you know? Normally I wouldn’t read it, but she’s way out of my league. So I thought screw it, why not, it’s not even that long.”

My voice echoed into the night. Everything’s been right so far, down to the last detail. The power shortage, the inexplicable stench down the street, the junk e-mail about some new church. But most of it is personal.

“I ain’t nobody, man. I mean, Sir... M’am? I’m just some boring guy, yeah? Nothing special ‘bout me.”

It’s my own story; the main character is me. And the last line is a killer:

“Butchered on the way home, on June 6, 2020”