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A Minute's Memoir

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I swallowed my most recent victim whole. I try not to make a habit out of eating a lot of fast food, even though I’m always in a rush. No pun intended, but I’m being quite, literal... one-bite meals wreak havoc on my digestive track. Still, I couldn’t avoid gulping the girl down completely intact; the somber-eyed blonde so willingly succumbed to me. Sienna Moss had been waiting a very long time for my arrival.


The last thing Miss Moss saw was the peeling, sun-kissed, navy blue paint of her ailing mailbox. The moment her eyes flickered to the single, dreaded paper that she clenched in her hand, I pounced.
I was her minute sent from hell. You see, all of us minutes originate from the same family. We’re all jungle cats, some more ferocious than others. I’m a cat sent straight from the deepest deaths of hell. And I was sent especially to greet Sienna. People underestimate the minutes. One never can be sure when I will creep up on you and then suddenly, attack- changing your life forever. I’ve witnessed people feel more alive in my short presence than a lifetime may feel in its entire working career. I referee pain, joy, life and death all within the sixty fleeting seconds of my existence in the human’s life.
I spent fifty-seven seconds with Sienna Moss on that otherwise average spring day. I felt her pain when she allowed the prose to flow from the page and quicken the beating of her heart. Then, I lost her. Our time together was cut short when Sienna went numb and fell to her knees, broken. She had no appreciation for her life, or the time that was ticking away. So with my tail between my legs, I spit her out and scampered off to my next victim.





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