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A Worse Idea 8

The waves crashed against the shore, but Katie didn’t notice. Speeding down A1A, the beach to her left and all-too-fancy homes on her right, she was barely cognizant of her surroundings.

She had to struggle to keep her eyes on the road — on the other cars, filled with the drunk and elderly. It was raining, too, which made things even more difficult. The torrent pelted her windshield.

Her mind’s eye was somewhere else entirely — on that man, the man who wanted to murder her. There was something odd about his face, which was to be expected, since murderers were often odd sorts.

But this guy was odd even by murderous standards. Something in his eyes seemed so unlifelike.

A honk.

She was stopped at a green light. Remembering where she was, she tapped her foot on the gas, rolling forward.

Usually these visions stopped when she got out of danger — she saw futures, not thwarted futures. Still, this guy had his hands around her throat. She saw her life leaving her body.

Am I going to die? she wondered.

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