Class Quick Write

I pace anxiously across my room, waiting for the phone call. My burning eyes are dried from all the tears. Each tick of the second hand feels like an eternity. What if she died? What if I never see her again? My clammy hands gripped the phone tightly. One tick; I slam the door not suspecting what the fate of the future will bring. Two ticks; the sound of the sirens piercing the cold, thin air.Three ticks; her lifeless body, her pale face, her cold hands. Four ticks; hot burning tears streaming down my face. Five ti— the phone rings.

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