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Scott MacLeod's avatar

Irv learned the cliches of aging were no stereotypes. Nose hair and ear hair flourish. Memory says sayonara. Below the belt? Don’t ask. Hearing ebbs. But one thing got louder and louder. As his odometer clicked over from 84 to 85. Behind him, gaining on him, all the time. Footsteps.

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C. Lee McKenzie's avatar

Okay, here are my 50 words.

Midnight. The footsteps start in the apartment above. No. Not more hours of sleeplessness! I grab my robe and go upstairs to knock at the door. It swings open to empty rooms. No furniture. No clothes in the closet. Only a piece of yellow crime scene tape on the floor.

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