Letters from the future
The fact that Eli was still alive, breathing, texting her dumb jokes about his shoelaces right now—because she had listened.
The walls of her room felt like they were closing in. She shoved the letter back into the envelope, stuffed it into her desk drawer, and slammed it shut.
Out of sight. Out of mind.
Except it wasn’t.
The next morning, Eli was waiting for her at the corner.
“Morning, psychic,” he said with a grin, though his eyes searched her face.
Ava blinked. “Psychic?”
He shrugged. “You freaked out about the shortcut yesterday, and then—boom. Sirens. Gas station fire. Whole block taped off. Tell me that’s not creepy.”