Seven Minutes Early

John whipped around abruptly to face Mark but only emptiness greeted him. The front door at the end of the hallway was still ajar and let in a little light from the street.

“I did wait, now tell me what the fuck happened here?” John shouted into the darkness. Mark's response this time came from John's right, a bit further away. The voice was cold and steady, as the anger had evaporated from his tone.

“You're early John; you shouldn’t have come in.” John turned to his right, still nothing but a doorframe leading into another room faced him. John followed the sound of Mark's voice. Walking slowly, every step of his shoe rang out like a cannon blast in the inescapable silence.

“I Fucking Waited The Fifteen Goddamn Minutes! Now stop playing games and tell me what happened. I can't help if you don't tell me.” John had wanted to sound tough but the shake in his throat gave him away.

“You are seven minutes early John.” This time the voice came from up a flight of stairs lit by a faint warm glow probably coming from the bedroom. John gradually climbed the stairs, lifting each leg took an enormous amount of effort.

“No I looked at the clock in my car and it said…” John trailed off and his whole body shuddered. The clock in his car was seven minutes fast.

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