“You’re going to work yourself to death,” Mag had said. The words rang through my head as I returned home.
It had been a hard day, a hard month, and I’d never felt as beat up. With a spinning head and dragging feet, I started to climb the steps. Half way up I found myself surrounded by swirling lights. Bedazzled by the patterns, I knew it, I was dead.
Having just accepted my fate, a voice came to me from far away, Mag’s voice. “Like the new light sculpture? Cool, isn’t it?”
I’ll get her! When I have the energy.
— — — — —
Word count = 100
It’s been a while since I’ve done a Friday Fictioneer. One big reason is I knew I would not have time to read any of the others. It’s nice to be back!