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Alex Cameron
Alex Cameron

The sky was beautiful the morning I was murdered.

I didn’t hear the stranger creep up behind me and separate my head from my body. There was a slight pressure around my neck and then weightlessness as the world spun and the ground moved closer at an alarming speed.

With the last few seconds of my life ticking away, there are things I remember. The rays of sunshine dancing off the morning dew. The sweet, earthy petrichor wafting on the cool, summer breeze. The headless torso that carried me through my every experience, strangely contorted and spouting red.

The regret that I took it all for granted.



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