The Wrong Murder

My breathing picked up, getting louder with each passing second. He had a gun in his duffle bag.

A female phone call, a life insurance policy, and a gun? If wasn’t clear before, it was clear now. He was going to kill me.

The bathroom door burst open while I continued holding the gun.

“The shower was refreshing. It was too bad you didn’t join me.” He titled his head in my direction. “You went through my stuff?”

I waived the gun at him. “Why do you have this?”

He forced a gulp of air into his lungs. “Look, I can explain. It’s not what it looks like.”

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)