There was a picture of me sleeping on my

There was a picture of me sleeping on my phone. I live alone.

I got up and locked my bedroom door, just in case. I started to back up when my phone went off again. it was a message. "Locked doors can not keep me out."

I started to panic. I had no other option but to hide. I went in the attic, as dark and creepy as it is and hid. I got another text, " I know your in the attic..nice try".

-tic & that I was just biding my time but you know the old adage about assumptions. I needed to get to the killer before he could hurt anyone else. I waited for a reply to my texts

but my phone battery died. By the time I got it to a charger, the texts had flared up like ghosts. "I M in dumpster 12th & P St." "U hav 1 min." "Too late, I killed again."

And now with my godforsaken phone, there was hardly much I could do. I called him once I had enough charge. "Hello?" No reply. "Are you there?" All I heard was heavy breathing.

I threw the phone away. It felt cursed somehow. I felt cold, distressed, anxious all of a sudden. Like God was so far away he could ever be. A lighthouse destroyed by a heavy wind.

I felt abandoned by the Cosmos. So there I was, stuck on the planet of the crazy people, pure materiality twitched about by us dust devils of happenstance. Never liked Charbucks, b

because it was always overpriced for such a little amount of crappy coffee.