The 18Th Time: I Answered That Call

Chen Mo was sure that he had not been to that convenience store three days ago. But the cashier said he had been there. I bought the same cigarettes, stood at the door and stared at the road for forty minutes, then walked to the hotel and never came out. He has three scars on his left wrist. He didn't remember how he got there. Blink, twice. The phone rang. The woman's voice was hoarse: "This is the eighteenth time. You won't even remember the first seventeen times after you died." Chen Mo looked down at his wrist. It was clearly three paths just now. He walked towards the hotel. The pace is steady.