Dying Twice

The placidity of the night is shattered by brisk pounding footsteps. You know it isn’t you. You know it couldn’t be her. She’s dead. Yet, those footsteps... they sound so familiar. It triggers an alarm in your mind and you instinctively break into a run, but you still can’t put your finger on it. You know you’ve heard them before, and you hate yourself for not knowing. You just don’t remember.