The room was a uniform shade of grey: the walls, the metal table, the plastic chair. Even the floor was unadorned poured concrete. The only colour in the room was the bottle-red haired man who stood waiting as they came through the double doors.

The two tall guards pushed the dazed scientist into the chair and then moved back to flank the exit. As Rico opened his mouth, the man across the room spoke.

“You’ve been talking to my fiancée.”

Apparently, Sandy had forgotten to mention that her beloved was a possessive maniac as well as a diligent stalker.



Previous – Go!

Next – Direction Please


About azhwi

An editing student, graduated Feb 2012. An avid fan of video games, fanfiction, anime, writing, and the serial comma.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Man-Made Wings, Post-Trauma, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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