࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *: ･
Would you go back home? A question for anything.
Looking down a phone, with a message app open. The last message was sent at 11:45 am, 10 minutes ago into a drive leading to traffic on a mild highway. No one was moving a inch, but who could blame them? Where else could they go, everyone is basically jammed on this highway.
Angry honks showers over each other, Margaret slowly scrolls up her phone. Tapping foot and tighten hands on the staring wheel, there's no reply yet.
Not. A. Single. One
Its been 12 minutes now, still in a jammed traffic, where there's plenty of time to answer.
·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙ೀ.ᐟ⭒๋࣭ ⭑
YOU ARE READING
Pearl
ParanormalMargaret arrives. Dim hallways, thick walls with paintings slanted and clothes hanging soggy and loose. Returning her oyster of a home.
