Author: Fabrizia Faustinella

I started writing a few years ago. I didn’t start writing out of love for something or someone. In fact, I started writing out of anger.

She’s still not picking up the phone. What could have happened? Would it even be possible to get seriously ill less than twenty-four hours after exposure? But what if she caught something earlier in the week, when we walked past that man who clearly had a bad cold? Or when she opened the door to sign the receipt for a package she got in the mail? I’m getting nervous.