Pocket Fiction

Fratricide

Published August 20, 2017 in Arizona Stories , Jack Sprat - 0 Comments

Fratricide

So, I go to the local gas station/liquor store.

And I’m wearing a cap with an elm tree as the logo

and a tie dye Indonesian number with a pocket

(because a man needs pockets).

And I ask for a map.

After peeking at it, they inform me it’s not for sale.

I hand it back to them.

As I am leaving, the big dude at the register asks me

“Are you sure you aren’t a hit man, casing the area?”

I answer, “Do I look like a hit man to you?”

“Those are the most dangerous ones.” he says with a smile.

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