Sunday, 29 March 2015

Simon, Who Is Called Peter



A small black hybrid rolled to a stop, parking neatly within the lines in bay 435B.

An average looking man stepped out, glancing around casually as he placed his strikingly bright red briefcase on the hood of the car and began to put in the code.

“Simon!”

He didn’t turn around, although he did brush some lint from a pocket.

“Simon!”

He turned around and raised his hands when he saw the gun.

“Sorry, I’m Peter-“

“No more lies!“

Peter died. So did Simon, once he took out the gunman.

Robert left the scene with his strikingly bright red briefcase.

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