Ring
Ring sad stories
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floatingheads
floatingheadsMaybe I'll find 'me' in the stories.
Autoplay OFF  •  a month ago
For better, for worse. Forever, maybe.

Ring

6.30am

The piercing trill of an alarm cuts through the quiet room.

The piercing trill of an alarm cuts through the quiet room. A hand fumbles about the bedside table, grabs the source, and shuts it up.

6.45am

The alarm trills again.

The alarm trills again. This time, she pushes herself up heavily from her side of the bed, and reaches for the phone.

She stares blankly at the headboard in the ensuing silence.

6.55am

The woman in the mirror looks back at her: long hair hanging limp, dark circles deepening around her eyes, lips stained red from last night’s wine...

The woman in the mirror looks back at her: long hair hanging limp, dark circles deepening around her eyes, lips stained red from last night’s wine... She wipes the water off her face with the back of her hand.

Her finger glints silver in the light.

7.30am

She boards the train to work.

She boards the train to work. Alone, for the first time.

7.55am

The train pulls into its fifth stop. A pair of giggly students—so clearly in love—comes into the train, and stands before her.

The train pulls into its fifth stop. A pair of giggly students—so clearly in love—comes into the train, and stands before her. She tries to ignore their very public displays of affection. The pounding in her head worsens.

8.30am

She fills up her mug with coffee from the office pantry. Another day of work begins.

12.30pm

Her colleagues ask her out for lunch, but she declines with a cheery excuse of having had a big breakfast.

Her colleagues ask her out for lunch, but she declines with a cheery excuse of having had a big breakfast. She lied. She hasn’t eaten since last afternoon, when the thing happened.

2pm

Emails, meetings, and work calls. They distracted her, which is good.

4.15pm

Her phone buzzed with a text.

4.25pm

She locks herself in a cubicle at the basement toilet. Hardly anyone uses that toilet, so there no one can hear her.

4.35pm

The woman in the mirror stares back at her with red-rimmed eyes. She clears her throat, reapplies her makeup, and adjusts her hair.

5.30pm

She waves a cheery goodbye to her colleagues, much to their surprise, because she hardly leaves work on time.

She waves a cheery goodbye to her colleagues, much to their surprise, because she hardly leaves work on time. If only it was for date night, as they assumed, if only.

5.40pm

She boards the train again. Her head is no longer pounding. It is now blank.

She boards the train again. Her head is no longer pounding. It is now blank. She grips the handle—so tightly that her knuckles turned white—as she waits to arrive at the fateful stop, where the life that she has known for so long will change forever.

Her finger no longer glints in the light.

Her finger no longer glints in the light. All that's left is a mark.

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