7.05.25: Leo Must Die

Every year on August 9th, Leo dies. Car crash. Drowning. Lightning. Heart attack. Then he wakes up, drenched in sweat, gasping. Same date. Different death. He’s tried hiding. Running. Staying indoors. Nothing works. He’s never made it to August 10th. But this year, he sits calmly in his kitchen, drinking coffee. He’s done running. If it’s the end, so be it. The clock turns midnight. Nothing happens. He waits. Still nothing. A new date on the calendar. He breathes. Smiles. Then the doorbell rings. Outside, a stranger says, “You made it. Now it’s your turn to collect.”