Bite-sized storytelling.

My heart is failing.

It has been for a time. My fingers and toes go numb randomly. I always feel out of breath. I can no longer go on runs or hikes.

I used to go on a lot of hikes with my best friend. I used to do everything with him—we’re completely alike. We even have the same blood type.

That’s why I know he’d understand what I have to do. Obviously, I have to keep him drugged while the black market doctor removes the transplant organ, but he’d understand.

He has a good heart.

“Where is the time loop generator?” the officer barks, kicking in my front door.

He storms inside as my dog barks madly, the incandescent lightbulbs flicker, and the floorboards creak with the intrusion.

The officer checks the first bedroom. Then, the second. Then, the bathroom. Then, the garage.

The generator is nowhere to be found, so he runs outside in frustration.

There’s another porch and door in front of him. Forgetting everything he saw inside the house, he runs up and drives his foot through the front door.

“Where is the time loop generator?”

“Send us our money, or we’ll kill the girl,” the kidnapper says through his ski mask.

He sees me through the webcam. If I don’t transfer $1,000,000, he’ll know. Feigning a tremble, I navigate to my bank account and send the money.

A day later, he returns my wife.

“Our—our life savings is gone!” she cries, knowing we’ll likely become homeless.

What she doesn’t know is that the money I sent has digital ink packets attached—if the kidnapper tries to spend it, the malicious code will send all of his money to me and alert the police to his location.