Wednesday, January 7, 2009

She cut off their tales with a carving knife

So there I was, leaving my apartment with Tim, when this girl passes us on the staircase (going downstairs from the apartments from above). She's bundled up with a blue wool cap, matching gloves and a trenchcoat down to her ankles, all of which were overshadowed by the zombie-like stare that glazed over her eyes. It wasn't until I was walking down the stairs behind her that I notice it: a huge kitchen knife in her right hand, held firmly by her side.

She continues to march down the stairs, but instead of going out to the parking lot, she makes a sharp, right turn and practically runs into another apartment. So from an upstairs apartment, with a knife, and back downstairs into another apartment (not to mention, at an unusually fast pace).


Fleeing the scene of a crime? Safeguarding herself from the terrors of the night? Re-enacting a zombie horror flick? All are reasonable presumptions.

Alright, enough overreacting. You didn't see her face, though. Trust me, there was something fishy going on.
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