The window behind me shatters, and I duck, narrowly avoiding a pavement stone.
Third time this month. I’m not surprised. With my phone disconnected, it’s the second best way to send me a message.
The dame didn’t react quickly enough, though. Now she’s got a blackeye.
“Duck,” I say, smiling.
The killer walked up to his victim from behind, and backstabbed him.
The victim fell, face up, revealing to the killer that he’d actually killed himself.
“Oh, shit!” he thought, looking upon his own, now inert features. “That’s the last time I go back in time!”
How right he was.