It was late. Too late. The kind of late where doomscrolling feels mandatory. My eyes burned. My brain was soup. That’s when I saw it. My shirt moved. I froze. I stared at it. It stared back. (Probably.) My heart started doing that thing where it forgets how to beat normally. “I’m scareds,” I whispered. Little dids I know… It wasn’t shirt. It was... Larry. He rose slowly from the shadows, eyes unblinking. Behind him stood a machine. Not just any machine. A machine… that explodes peenars. Larry didn’t speak. He just lifted the machine… and pointed it at me. The room grew cold. The air got crunchy. My soul attempted to leave my body via the emergency exit. Then— I woke up. Cold sweat. Heart racing. Shirt completely innocent. I lay there, staring at the ceiling. “I hope,” I said softly, “I never have that dreem again.” (≧▽≦)
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