Everything was finally quiet after the
party. The fireplace kept the house warm and the living room lit.
Finally, there was time to sit and relax. A moment of quiet before
going to bed. The vodka was cool and tasted slightly sweet.
Outside it was still snowing. Michael
closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch. A chill ran through
him as a metallic click sounded near him. Opening his eyes he saw the
muzzle of a gun. The woman holding it had a scarred face. “Brenda?”
he stammered.
Brenda smiled, “Tag, you're it.”
He never heard the shot.
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