Free house? Tom stopped dead in his tracks. It was an enticing offer. Obviously, he already had a house – the one he shared with Linda, his wife of forty years – but who couldn't use a second one? Maybe he could get around to getting one of those mistresses he'd read about and setting her up in it. Or, naturally, he could always sell the building and use the proceeds on a sports car; that was something he didn't already have.
No, no, he thought to himself. I've come out for some stationery and that's all I'm going back with. And Tom resumed his slow shuffle towards the bus stop to wait for the number 84.
Behind the windows of the building two figures glanced at one another with looks of mild frustration on their faces. The taller of the two ran his fingers through the ice cubes floating on the surface of the water in the bathtub; his partner placed the surgical blade he'd been holding in anticipation back onto the tablecloth by his side. "That's four now," he said forcefully.
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