Martin Dash

by Andy Bailey

  A familiar tone rang out.

  She realised that it was coming from within the room.

  All the breath seemed to be sucked out of her as she moved to where the sound was coming from – Martin’s black jacket on the chair by the window with the orange blind. In some confusion she reached in the pocket and pulled out Martin’s Nokia – buzzing, with her name flashing on the screen.

  Time stood still for a moment.

  The red plastic device hit the wood-panelled floor at exactly the same time as the first tear.

  THE END