Five
Dayamí Pérez Poncewrite me a horror storywrite a scary storyrain keeps falling on my headmy dream is already smeared with blood
“—If you want, you can close the window and turn on the AC,” Sam mumbles, typing non-stop on his computer.
“No, I’m fine like this.”
I get ready to go through the documents. Just a quick glance: hands to work. In half an hour, everything is ready, all that’s left is to print.
“What are you printing, Estela?” Sam teases, his hazel eyes fixed on me, as if trying to read something deeper than my appearance.