hitxuanni

There is a man standing at your door. You can see him through the curtains. He wears a tan jacket, a red tie, and carries a deer skin case.

Today, unceremoniously slumped over your mailbox, is a dead man riddled with arrows. You feel vaguely perturbed.

The fifty dollar note was in the man's bag. It was one of many. That man stood on a subway platform, waiting for a train that was hopelessly late.