Looks Just Like the Sun

“Hey, Dan. Borrow your twelve-gauge? Gotta go shoot up a house.”

Yeah. Like that would fly with a guy you haven’t seen in three years. Maybe put “Merry Christmas” first?” While he waited, Marcel shifted kindling from the porch’s woodpile into his backpack and crammed the day’s Northern Times in on top. He zipped up just as the door opened. read more