“Whatever happens, don’t die. See you Monday.”
At first, I was afraid. Knowing that someone write a message saying, “Don’t die,” gave me a greater fright than what I usually read on those creepypasta sites. I know that I’m a bit too old for those sites, but Richard keeps emailing everyone in the office those stories, and he won’t let anyone get their work done until they’ve read those stories.
And I’m always the last person to read them, as I keep closing down the window the story is on. I have considered blocking him from my emails, but the boss wants us all to “stay informed” and to delete a person from your contacts is to kick them out of the loop.
And that’s what I would like to do; I don’t have time for those creepypasta stories.
But when I confronted Richard about the message, he denied it. But I continued to glare at him, knowing that he probably wrote that message as a prank. There’s no other way around it. Richard’s immaturity was certainly getting to me, and I’ve had enough of his pranks.
Maybe I should have paid closer attention to the message, as the elevator broke down before I could board it, meaning that I had to take the stairs. Then my car wouldn’t start, which meant I had to call a tow truck and take the bus home. When I got home, there was that message again, telling me not to die. So I had no choice but to lock myself in my room, keeping away from anything that would hurt me, and wait until Monday, where I would meet the person who sent me that message.