A disturbing murder case was weighing heavily on Jim Delaney’s mind as he walked up his sidewalk. A sound came from the storage shed. Jim unholstered his pistol, not willing to take any chances after a day like today. He saw movement and instincts took over.
Jim unmasked the bloody body and nearly threw up. Stumbling into the house, he opened a bottle of whiskey. As he drank, he spotted a note:
I finally got you! Meet me at Finnegan’s and we’ll get drunk.
Jim’s pistol fired one last shot, leaving the wall stained with the blood of remorse.
* * * * * * * * *
The above story is my submission to Friday Fictioneers. For those of you that don’t know, Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers from around the world who respond to a photo prompt of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields choosing with a story of approximately 100 words. Find more fictioneers here.