At 3:17 a.m., the knock came.
The phone buzzed again.
He whispered to himself: “Wake up, motherfucker.” wake up motherf****r
Leo’s hands shook. He tried to remember Friday. Friday was… nothing. A void. He remembered Thursday—he’d lost his job. He remembered Saturday—waking up on the floor with a split lip and a parking ticket in his pocket. But Friday was a black hole. At 3:17 a
His phone buzzed one last time.
Leo stood up. He pulled on jeans stiff with last week’s coffee. He slipped the key card into his pocket, the envelope under his arm. As he reached for the door handle, he caught his reflection in the smudged microwave door—bloodshot eyes, unshaven jaw, a face he barely recognized. At 3:17 a.m.