The storm lashed the windows, the house lights flickering on and off with every gust of wind.
Every time the darkness came back, he pulled a little away from the circle, content to let them drink and smoke. Soon he was alone, exploring this house all by himself. The coat rack gave him a fright, as did the kitchen door.
But then, accompanied by a crash of lightning, he heard a scream, cut off. He rushed back to the party, and they were all dead.
He realised none of them had worn a jacket just as the killer struck him.
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