Gone
“Man, what do you make of this weather?”
“Uhh, what do you mean?”
“You know, this sudden fog.”
“What fog? It’s bright and sunny outside my window.”
I pull back the curtain again. “Strange, I’m socked in here. I can barely see the mailbox.” A chill runs down my spine. Our houses are two blocks apart.
“No way. I don’t even see any clouds. You’re pulling my le--”
The phone cuts off.
I notice that the door has blown open. I go to shut it, but I stumble at the gate, out in the fog, into blank white, floating away.
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