The Shot – draft

It rang loud and dry in the moldy air of the cramped room, stuffed with old furniture. It woke me up and I was so scared, I wasn’t expecting for that to happen at all, as I had just asked JT to help me carry some furniture over to the house. As we walked into the room, I noticed that four chairs that had been grouped together had been placed on top of a lamp that hanged from the low ceilings at the far left corner of the room. I asked JT why he’d put them there, to which he replied that there was nowhere else he could have placed them. I walked round the central column slightly off-centre in the middle of the room and was just about to place my load on the table, when I looked to my left, and was shot.

I thought the package I had just placed on the table had blown-up as a result of the hostility I felt from the room towards me. Had JT set me up, had he just guided me to my demise? Had he betrayed me? What could he possibly want? And more importantly, who would’ve helped?



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