There were only three people Clem trusted: the mailman, the kid from the pharmacy who delivered his meds and the lady in 3B.
He was so close to cracking it—the whole thing. Very much near uncovering the underlying conspiracy behind all of it.
From the window, he looked back over his shoulder and tried to decide if one could see it from the street: Clem’s careful collage of post-its, news clippings and abandoned receipts. Because just now he’d caught the mailman LOOKING UP.
Clem turned back: their eyes met. Some knowing passed.
He could no longer trust the mailman.
This has been an edition of Friday Fictioneer, hosted by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s photo prompt courtesy Roger Bultot.
To read more flash fiction inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button.
I post this rather sheepishly, because the last fictioneer piece I posted, I did not get around to commenting/replying/reading as I would’ve like. Thanks for reading. I aim to do better this go-around.