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Karen Waite.

It was white static at first. Just static. Irritating, especially on the long train ride to work, but it wasn’t terrifying. When it first happened, I was listening to a political pundit so I was almost relieved by the static. It kept me from breaking the cheap radio.

Then I heard my name. That unnerved me. I listened for few more seconds until the voice said my name again. The voice was metallic but stood out against the static. I quickly turned it off and rode the rest of my way in silence.

Everyone kept asking if I’d heard it on my way in. I acknowledged that I had and left it at that. Finally, I snapped, reminding everyone that mine was a common name. No one else said anything after that, but I saw the furtive glances in my direction. I left work, grateful for the weekend.

On the train, I looked up what was causing the static. Since it was worldwide, the idea that it was a targeted attack was ruled out. There were theories saying that it was in preparation of a global attack by aliens. That was an overused trope. The name was the target of an assassination. The name was a scare tactic by the aliens.  

I tuned it all out and waited until I arrived home. My apartment had never felt so small. I needed a pet. I needed a glass of wine. It had barely been poured when someone knocked.

It was two police officers checking with every person named Karen Waite. I wondered how many there were in the city. They asked questions, wondering if I knew what was going on. Trying to see if I was behind it. I told them what I knew and in my studio apartment, it was hard to hide anything. They left and I settled into my routine of inane reality television.

The next knock was late, after I’d started to doze off. I shuffled to the door and swung it open about to berate whoever was there. It was a man-shaped creature with white skin, deeply recessed black eyes, and a black, three-piece suit. My tirade was stifled in my throat as I tried to get away.

To be honest, I’m not sure how it killed me. I was on the floor, feeling myself die. And it turned on the radio. I heard static then my name. The last thing I heard was:

Brandon Dunn.

Then static.

Brandon Dunn.

 

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