Pillow Talk of Death

Summary

I jolted awake on March 7th, my eyes snapping open.

By my desk stood the student I sponsored, a scholarship kid. She held a bottle of pills, a sweet smile on her face.

“Eleanor, your allergy meds are almost out. I put a new bottle in your drawer for you,” she said.

I didn't call her out immediately.

Because I distinctly remembered that after my accidental death in my previous life, I’d found a notebook hidden under her pillow.

It was filled with dates, each one checked off, and each checked date perfectly matched a time I’d suffered an “accident.”