Flash Fiction: Interview

You expect evil to reach out and slap you in the face. Not adjust its reading glasses and peer down at your resume. Roger Harmon looked so ordinary. So respectable in his gray suit and navy tie. If I hadn’t known what he was, hadn’t witnessed firsthand the devastation he’d caused, I never would have…

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Five people, plus me. Two, I know. I’m cuffed to one of the strangers. The door shuts. The clock starts. We’ve got an hour. It’s a classroom. Desks lined up, homework on the blackboard. American poets stare at me from a poster. Robert Frost knows I haven’t read his stuff. The escape door’s different from…

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