Another Monday Morning

You're feeling just too GOOD right now to bother with the worrisome details of paranoia. Who would come here except osmeone who deserved it? Probably just a homeless man, someone who no one would believe if they said anything... or who might appreciate what you've done.

You hear his footsteps, slow and steady, closer. THe darkness clings to him and he is a silhouette. You smile to yourself and stand.

"Good evening, sir," you say, genteel as possible, slick as an eel, "see anything you lik-"

Your voice is cut off by a slow click. You take in the fullness of what you see in front of you, and horror kills whatever pleasure might have snuck into you.

It's a police officer. His gun trained to your chest.