Dead Hours — The Long Second, Page 10
By Suha · Published
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Transcript
The same tall thin customer in the beige raincoat and drooping grey beanie is now near the front sliding door, half-turned to leave and holding his canned coffee. He glances back over his shoulder and taps his blank-faced wristwatch. The dark, empty street is visible through the glass. His watch is somehow still reading the same time — the eeriness deepens. CUSTOMER: 'Still 3:15 for me.'
Image description
The same beige-raincoat, grey-beanie customer, half-turned to leave at the sliding door, glances back and taps his wristwatch. Empty street behind him.