YOUR LAST CALL (Chapter 10)

Tomorrow Hotline.
Line three is lit again.

Neon smoke in the doorway light,
Rain on glass like a ghost at night,
I’m clocked in, I’m here, I’m steady,
But the line feels, already ready.
I hear a breath before the tone,
Like someone called from a place unknown,
No panic words, no siren plea,
Just silence shaped like it knows me.

My screen goes pale, my hands go cold,
A message forms in letters bold,
Not a number, not a name,
Just a warning in perfect frame.

This is your last call
Don’t say my name, don’t hit that wall
This is your last call
If you answer, you’ll lose it all
The city listens, the future bites,
One wrong word and it rewrites
This is your last call

I say “Hello” and the line replies,
Not with fear, but with my own eyes
In the sound of a voice so clear,
It feels like a mirror in my ear.
You’re still there.
Good.
Listen carefully.
Who are you?
I’m you,
after the second call.

She tells me routes I haven’t seen,
Skybridge turns, the Data Spire gleams,
Chrome Alley floods at 2:09,
And my heartbeat keeps perfect time.

This is your last call
Don’t say my name, don’t hit that wall
This is your last call
If you answer, you’ll lose it all
The city listens, the future bites,
One wrong word and it rewrites
This is your last call

If time is a room with a locked front door,
Why do I feel footsteps on the floor?
If I hang up, does it end the threat,
Or does the line, remember my breath?
You’re about to choose.
And you won’t notice when you do.

I look at my hands like they aren’t mine,
Cursor blinking like a loaded sign,
And the hotline hums like a prayer in wire,
Like a choir made of neon fire.

This is your last call
I feel the future in the drywall
This is your last call
Say one word and it takes it all
I won’t break, I won’t disappear,
But the line is closer than my fear
This is your last call

If that was me.
who’s on the next line?