They weren't working in my play. The chemistry just wasn't there. So I killed them off in a car accident at the end of the first act.
My play had a limited run and closed. I moved on, joining a poetry group. Two of the members seemed familiar. I could not place them.
I caught the couple glaring at me. Was it my poetry? I was feeling uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't the group for me.
Then I remembered. I had given Warren a gotee and Elise a girlish smile. That couple had both.
I tried not to panic. As soon as the session was over, I excused myself and rushed to the cashier to pay for my coffee. The cashier was a short blonde woman with a birthmark on her cheek. The mirror image of a character I had stabbed to death in my previous play. She smiled without blinking and shivers engulfed me.
Behind me, the couple slid past and whispered one word--Murderer.
Outside I couldn't wait to get to my car.
I suddenly realized why the coffee tasted so strange.
Breathing became an issue as my throat constricted.
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