Jake splashes more scotch in his glass, absently noting that the bottle he bought yesterday is less than half full now. He shrugs, no longer deluding himself with the pretense that anything matters. The songs streaming from his Echo serve as a reminder of times gone by, while these lonely nights slip away like faceless cars on the highway.
After another hour of staring into darkness, Jake hears a ping. At first, he thinks he imagined it, but it comes again and he glances at his phone. It’s lit up with a message. From her!
“You’re back in. Meet me at the usual place for details.”
Instantly sober, Jake grabs his gun and heads out the door.
Image from Google Photo Frame.
Written for Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.
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