Janelle was on the news
the next day. Her picture seemed to
float about the reporter’s shoulder.
She looked happy in the
picture.
“A horrible
accident…”
The reporter spoke with
sincerity.
My phone vibrated. A message.
A video.
As if possessed my finger
moved, hit play.
Janelle was standing on
the EL platform, the same one I road every day. It was empty except for her. The camera was behind her. The camera moved forward. It was moving quickly. Janelle didn’t have a chance.
The roar of the train
burst out of my phone as Janelle fell out of view.
She didn’t even
scream.
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