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Phantom of the Mall

by Tom Lichtenberg

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright 2011 by Tom Lichtenberg

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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He awoke too early on a Saturday in August with a feeling he had never felt before. He sat up in bed and tried to classify the emotion, but the mood eluded him. He yawned and stretched, looked at the clock and yes, it was eight o'clock, too early. He could not go back to sleep. He sat up in the bed, and looked around the room. The orange-glowing digital clock rested on a dresser top beside the bed, next to an imitation bronze bed lamp. The walls were white, and there was nothing on them, except over by the door a poster of the General looking calm, austere, and confident. The sheets on the bed were white, the blanket lime neon green. The desk, chair and dresser were all painted chocolate brown to match the telephone.

There was nothing on the desk. The chair was neatly tucked beneath it and the closet door was closed. Thin carpeting covered the floor, a sort of yellow not quite brown. Everything was immaculately clean. Francis yawned again and blinked. He was vaguely troubled by a dream, but it was gone, no memory remained of it, and he was up again too early, on a Saturday at that.

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