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May 11, 2017

    Flash Fiction

    Late

    Sam looked at the clock in the car. 8:39. She was going to be late. Again. Although this time, it wasn’t her fault. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, urging the traffic to move. It had been ten minutes and the cars hadn’t moved. She watched the driver in the BMW next to her. He was on his phone. ‘That’d be right,’ she thought. Of all days to forget her phone, it had to be today. She tried…

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