Instant Regret Kit
- It’s not good stuff
- We really don’t know how to stress this enough
A Multifarious Mehrathon Mystery
He stepped into an old foyer, abandoned and dusty yet still furnished. Lightning flashed outside as rain hammered the arched windows. Wind beat at the side of the house, like formless bodies thrown against the wall in an empty threat to topple them over. Irk crept by worn paintings, pots of dead flowers, mirrors cracked and warped that offered no reflections. He reached the end of the hall and called out, “Joe?” Nothing, but as the storm hit a lull, he heard something nearby. Heavy breathing.