The Killer
by M. V.
Montgomery
Shrouded in darkness, he strode into
the juke joint and took up a station on a bar
stool. Yes, he would be waiting here for a
long time. Time would, in fact, be his first
victim.
Occasionally, the talk spread his
way, but he knew just what to say to terminate a
topic of conversation or to frustrate further
queries.
Gradually, the others would learn to
simply leave him alonealone to dust off
glass after glass of house whiskey.
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