Hands

I walked to the mailbox. I opened it up.

“When did it arrive?” I said as I opened the door.

A dirty hand reached out and pulled my collar close to the opening of the mailbox. It spoke in a hushed whisper.

“You know what will happen. So do I. Don’t try to stop it. You will die.”

I stumbled back as the hand let me go. At that same moment, a car came. I screamed. I awoke in the hospital with people buzzing around me. My mother rubbed my sore head and told me I had a concision. I fell asleep again for a very long, long, long time….

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