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The nostalgia manages to override the discomfort my elevated heart rate is causing to my chest. Through the cobwebs galore and the dust piled high, it feels the same way it did when the shelves were fully stocked and the store was open.

I relish the unexpected walk down memory lane, conveniently ignoring the fact that the strange noise I heard before likely came from where I am now.

Naturally, as if on cue, the noise sounds again, except this time it’s not muffled or distant-sounding. There’s a distinct thump mixed with a clanking of chains that seems to get louder by the second.

Clearly this is my sign to hightail it out of here.

Gathering what little common sense I’ve brought out with me this evening, I pivot toward the door. Not even a second into my running start, the door slams shut. The knob crashes to the ground, revealing no opening for me to wiggle my hand through to try to get out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkkkk.

My fists pound against the door. I want to cry for help, but I know better than that. Long before Memoria closed, this area was considered a ghost town. Cars pass by, like the one before, but no one sticks around. It’s a pass-through area. In fact, this was the only business within miles. So now that it’s been left for the Earth to claim, no one comes around here, except for me, of course.

With no other choice, I reach for my phone to call for help.

My instinct is to call Lacey. If I do, I know she’ll come to my rescue, but it’ll come with a lecture. Plus, she’s busy with her four kids—that’s including her husband. So, scratch that.

I could call 911.

But wait, is this considered trespassing?

I feel like it is.

Scratch that again.

My fingers ghost over the phone screen, trying to think of who I can call for help.

Rennix is the next person who comes to mind. If he were still around, he would’ve come to rescue me in a heartbeat and then we’d probably end up staying here together to explore.

He was always the first person I called or thought of for all things good, bad, and everything in between.

But harping on that isn’t going to get me anywhere.

I suck it up and press Lacey’s contact. The phone rings once before disconnecting. The one measly bar of service I was hoping would stay strong vanishes and is quickly replaced by a lovely SOS signal.

No service.

No way out.

No fucking way.

How very Friday the thirteenth and typical of my luck—or lack thereof.

Regret fills me as I turn my back to the door and slump down until I’m seated against it.

Ironically the time on my lock screen is 11:11.

Today couldn’t get crueler if it tried.

I close my eyes, my mind indulging itself in memories that have embedded themselves in my soul.

MaLL_Babe90: Quick! Make a wish.

GaM3b0y90: Seriously?

MaLL_Babe90: Yes! Seriously. It’s 11:11. I don’t make the rules.

GaM3b0y90: I’d rather not.