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Weekly Contest #305
“You know what? I quit,” she says, barely above a whisper, her voice cracking like glass under strain. Her gaze doesn’t lift, locked, unwavering, on the amber bottle trembling in her hand. The pills inside rattle like tiny bones, like lost souls impatient for her to join them.“Just in case,” She thinks as she glances sideways at the trio of other bottles lined up on her nightstand, arranged with surgical precision, just in case the first ones don’t finish the job. She’s thorough. If she’s going to vanish, she wants it clean. Certain. She doe...
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