“You mean, Alina’s dead? My baby’s gone.”
Jasmine stared at the photo in the officer’s hands.
That was three days ago. Now, she stands just inside an apartment window and puts the camera with the telephoto lens down. Across the street, in another room, two guys play video games.
“Want a burger?”
“Sure, man.”
Brad leaves, stomach rumbling. Patrick makes his high score when he hears a knock on the door.
“Brad, that you?” He gets up, looks out into Brad’s terrified face, a dark figure behind him. Neither man sees the bullets that take their lives.
And Alina’s mother, like the Ghost she is, disappears.
💡
Hi there! I’m Odin Halvorson, a librarian, independent scholar, film fanatic, fiction author, and tech enthusiast. If you like my work and want to support me, please consider becoming a paid subscriber for as little as $2.50 a month!
