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At 3:17 AM the door breathed, and I saw the twisted face of a childhood friend who never left the playground, his eyes hollowed voids that promised an endless chase.
The brass knob glowed at 3:17 AM, and the hallway beyond swallowed her breath, while a child's hollow smile widened into a darkness that promised no escape.
At 3:17 AM the door breathed open, and the silhouette of a boy I had never truly known stepped through, eyes empty of the light I once knew.
The kitchen clock ticked, relentless, as Mara’s phone buzzed with a voicemail from herself—tomorrow’s voice warning of a crime she hadn’t yet committed.