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My name is Jerome Thomson and my house is safe. What do I mean by safe? I mean that it's safe from the... well, I really don't know. I just know that my house is safe. Safe, safe, safe. I remember when the entire world was safe, but that was a long time ago... I think. I dream of it some nights, I think that my dreams are more like flashbacks. That's why I'm writing this to you. Haha, you are me and I'm writing this to you- me. Wrap your... my... head around that one. Basically, everyday you've woken up disorientated, right?

Well, this note will save you a lot of time and shock. Here is a summary of your life's details and your current predicament: You are Jerome Thomson, age 57, got your license to drive in the state of Montana, in the United States. Whatever, or wherever that is, I don't know. I doubt it matters. You should NEVER leave this house. There is something, or things, outside. I only assume that they want to hurt you because I've been too frightened to leave. I only hear footsteps, fast ones, and then harsh and desperate banging on the door. Sometimes the banging comes without provoking them, just at random intervals. Another very important thing is that you have limited food, but seemingly unlimited water. I would find Something to keep yourself entertained because you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. I'm sorry to have to say that but, that's the truth. Be careful, be conservative with your food, and for god's sake DO NOT OPEN THE DOORS OR WINDOWS.

P.S. Pin this note to the wall near your bed every night before bed, somewhere where you won't miss it.

 I put the note back on the wall where i found it. With a shaky hand, i picked up my wallet to confirm what the note had said. I saw a Montana driver's license issued to me- Jerome Thomson. For the next half hour, i cried. Once i accepted my situation I got up and explored the house where i would spend the rest of my life. My tomb.

 Across the street Mrs. Anita Thomson stared out the window facing her former home. Her husband had been in there for almost two weeks without contact to the outside world. Her friend, Jacky Whitman, sat next to her, and added the sorrowful scene. Anita thought of how much she wished that she was widowed, like Jacky, then at least she wouldn't have the false hope that Jerome would remember to take his pills. One for Alzheimer's, two for agoraphobia.

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