Ficlets

Bystander

“Damn it. I’m late.” I kept muttering this to myself. Like a mantra to speed my walk through the early evening crush of the city side walk. As I dodged my way around a fat couple I looked up and a hot cigarette hit me in the noise. I screamed and did a little dance trying to cool off my nose. I looked up again and saw someone pull back from the edge of the rooftop.

“I get shit on by my boss, I get shit on by my wife and I get shit on by my kids. No god damn fucking way is some brat going to get away with burning my face.” I now took this as my mantra as I stomped up the stairs of the building. It was old and had been condemned, but I was too angry to care.

I roughly pushed the roof top door open with my best angry face on. To my increasing frustration the roof was empty. Or so it seemed. I heard a slight crunch of gravel behind. Two arms stronger then any I had ever felt rapped around my midsection holding me firm. A warm breath on my neck and short sharp pain were the last things I remembered.

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