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Weekly Contest #297
Staring at her feet through open-toe sandals, she notices a splash of paint, red, spattered across her left foot. God. She left in such a hurry, it looks like blood. It could be blood. People might think it’s blood. Maybe it is blood. She can’t tell any more, the stress of the last few hours still ringing in her ears, like tinnitus, high pitched and panic inducing, fogging her vision and pumping her heart.She dares to glance at the other passengers on the Northern line tube, clattering its way towards Edgware, the end of the earth. She catch...
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