I thought the painters looked suspicious the moment they pulled up in a murder van. My sister and I had been listening to way too many podcasts about true crime and it was all we could talk about. Suddenly everyone looked suspicious and everyone had the potential to be a murderer. My sister laughed about my overactive imagination and made it clear that she was not having the same crime filled dreams like I was having. My dreams often left me in a cold sweat when I woke up due to someone was usually being robbed or murdered, but almost immediately wrote them down so I could tell every detail to my sister later. Most of the time she didn’t seem to care.
The three men who got out of a painting truck but had no paint on their clothes, did seem a little suspicious. Where were they going and what were they doing on the street? I reached for my notebook so I could jot down my ideas for my next story. I often wrote short stories from what happened around me, but was hoping to one day progress to the point of writing a book. The men all stood at the back of their ‘paint’ truck and acted as if they were pulling out equipment, but I could see nothing relating to painting show up on the sidewalk, I felt my nerves skyrocket. When they looked directly at my bedroom window, I knew I was in trouble.
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