I’d never have looked at him twice normally.
The man behind the door had longish hair, wore jeans and a Chicago Cubs sweatshirt and seemed to be in his late 20’s or early 30’s. If I’d passed him in the street, I might have noticed that he seemed more fit than the average guy, but I might not.
At this moment, the main thing I noticed was that he was holding a metal flask in his hand. He placed it somewhere off to the left of the door as he opened it.
Continue reading Aftermath: Part 4