Healthy foods, juices, no alcohols, no cigarettes, your books are neat and tidy on your shelf. Boring. Boring as hell. I chuckle to myself after searching your apartment to see who are you. I sit down in the sofa opposite the front door and wait for you to enter. I cross my legs, my black pants and black T-shirt adequately hiding me in the dark. I have a knife in my hand. I can already hear the key rattling in the lock. You enter, then close and lock the door behind you. Welcome home, honey.
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