Pillow Talk of Death
Language: en
I jolted awake on March 7th, my eyes snapping open. By my desk stood the student I sponsored, a scholarship kid. She held a bottle of pills, a sweet smile on her face. “Eleanor, your allergy meds are almost out. I put a new bottle in your drawer for you,” she said. I didn't call her out immediately. Because I distinctly remembered that after my accidental death in my previous life, I’d found a notebook hidden under her pillow. It was filled with dates, each one checked off, and each checked date perfectly matched a time I’d suffered an “accident.” And on the very last page of that…