NotesNotes

6:32 Janice Jones sat at her desk, answering phones like she did every other day. "Mister Gene's Office, please hold." Click. "Mister Gene's office, can you hold? Thank--" "I have an emergency," the voice cut her off before she could switch lines. It was a deep, strong voice of a man. It was sweet, like a singer's voice. "Then please hang up and dial nine one one," Janice answered. "You will die today at 6:32." And then the line went dead. Janice frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. Then she pushed a button on her desk, making a light click noise and said, "Mister Gene's Office, please hold." And continued on her daily work. Finally