“I know What You Did.”
Patrick thought about the words he’d seen that morning: the careful lines of the cut letters, the smell of sulphur from the envelope. He shook the thought away, reaching for the toilet paper.
Outside the cubicle his security would be waiting – they knew his routine. Routine and strength were the paths to order. It was a pity that the letter writer hadn’t understood that.
Patrick flushed the toilet.
It made no sound.
Just beyond, the bathroom door clattered closed.
The last words flashed in his memory as the ticking in the cistern suddenly stopped.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Dan Watson via Unsplash.
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