Today instead of pages, I let random.org select a percentage. It picked 74%!
The woman across looked up. Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m just really happy to hear you’re Last Friends. I’m happy you found someone on your End Day.” She gestures to Gabriella. “And that you’re helping make days full. It’s beautiful.”
It would be several hours before the girl’s body was found.
It was late now; so late that it could once again be called early -that surreal, enchanted, twilight hour between the end of a party and the unfurling of a new day. The hour when reality grows dim and hazy at the edges, when nearly anything seems possible.