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Weekly Contest #98
I was bemoaning the coming terrors of nightfall, all tragic and Shakespearian, when my phone, blasting the somber, violin-strung songs narrating my pity party, died. I groaned and plucked the headphones out of my ears, hoisted myself up, and rubbed bleariness out of my eyes as they focused on the imposing houses our car was speeding by. “Glad to see you back from the dead.” I had more than a couple photos of my mom’s teenage years that proved she had spent a good chunk of her high school career emulating the dead, and I didn’t appreciate th...
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