MurderVerse

Small storefront, black curtains in the window

Depressing.

A neon sign

Fun...al.

She entered

A long hallway, no carpet.

Nervous

One foot in front of the other.

Her heels clicked on the linoleum

Light came from a little office at the end of the hall.

End of the line

A game blast through tinny speakers.

Crowd cheers

Yankees -Met's.

A Voice. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. He scores. Yes."

Winning run

Another voice, "He almost had him, almost."

Luck was a lifelong Yankees fan

Loved all sports.

He bet on everything, and won most times

Gina could feel him walking beside her,

down that narrow hall,

toward the office, toward the light.

Voices from office, "I won, pay up Met's fan. One hundred dollars."

"Damn. give me a few days to get the money, bro."

"I want my money now. No excuses."

"Okay, but I might have to rob the Rice and Noodles, next door."

Laughter

"I don't care if you have to sell first born son."

She knocked on the office door

Two men, their stocking feet resting atop their desks, eating Chinese.

Rice and noodles

Caught by surprise

"I called about funeral arrangements."

"Gina, right?" Said the winner pointing his chopsticks at her.

He rose, wiped his hands on his pants, extended a thin hand in greeting

Strong grip.

I'm Martin

"I've come to bury my husband, Martin."

"Well, you come to the right place." Said the man who lost the bet

Lucky smiled, even laughed

Gotta love the irony.

For the last time

Gina felt him standing beside her,

in that narrow hall,

outside the office, bathed in light.