The Wait

I kicked at the small snowbanks on the edge of the sidewalk as i passed, immediately regretting it as the mesmerizing, yet terribly cold substance seeped through my dilapidated sneakers. I turned, almost instictively down the alleyway, and immediately saw who i was looking for.

He never really seemed to change, always the same i-really-dont-care look on his face, smelling of marijuana and cigarettes. Logan was in the middle of about three guys, who looked, and smelled, the exact same as him.

As I got closer to the group, I noticed Logan reaching into his pocket. “hey guys” i greeted them nonchalantly as usual, and a few of them returned my gesture with a noncommittal grunt.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Logan said in a sly voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, “We don’t like to be kept waiting.”

It was then i noticed the gleen of the knife in Logan’s hand.
I backed away slowly
“Logan, Logan, what are you doing?”

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