Susan entered the thrift store at precisely 9:00. Friends called her obsessive, but she preferred “organized.” Susan hummed as she strolled about, putting her treasures into place.
Then she froze. Something was wrong. The numbers to the alarm clock were jumbled. And the stone collage had been flipped, causing the centered arrow to point downward. Her eyes followed the arrow, resting on a scrawled note: “TIME’S UP, SUSAN.”
A footstep… behind her. She hefted the heavy board, noting the sharp nail protruding from the back as she swung with her usual precision.
Time was up alright… but not for Susan.
Word Count: 100
Photo Credit: Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy