The Guilt

You get an uneasy feeling as you place your hand on the cold glass door as the rain and thunder resonates behind you. Quite a sad time this is in your life, the precise reason you have arrived here. 
As you walk in to the shop the stale air of the old shop sends a shake up your spine. As you approach the counter lugging your heavy bag, the burden of what you're about to do sinks in. 
How did this end up this way? 
Why did it have to happen to you? 
The old man, who clearly has something off about him, gives you a twisted grin as if he has no sympathy for what has happened to you. He asks simple questions, discussing the size (in various dimensions), and style that you had in mind. You tell him curtly that you have tried not to think about this. His grin grows wider. 
He asks you to place your bag on the counter. The smell of the shop is starting to bother your stomach and you say you must step outside. You walk among the various racks and return to the front of the store where you stepped in. 
As you open the door the crash of thunder greets you with its unholy welcome. The rain is more vigorous now and you fear you do not have enough time to finish your business before the downpour worsens. Entering back into the shop you notice your bag was emptied and there lies a note on the counter. 
Moving closer you start to make out the note, It reads, “Thanks for the business.” 
After the note you had received far greater an amount of money than you had imagined. 
“This could easily get you out of debt and maybe even help your son get a better education,” you think to yourself, “the boy could use an education more than his worthless mother.” You walk out of the store carefully avoiding the taxidermied bodies of other people's loved ones, who had also been murdered for money.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Micropasta