“Goddamnit, must be those carolers again!”, she muttered to herself angrily. She hated Christmas. Just another excuse for lazy idiots to go from house to house begging other people for money as though to sing silly tunes in exchange somehow makes it dignified…
It’s that damn Anderson kid again. He stood nervously in front of her doorstep with his mummy’s apple pie.
“Go away!,” she yelled, “Don’t want none of your charity.”
She slammed the door in his face.
A week later, her body was discovered.
No one knew. Nor cared.
Not even the cat.
© 2012 K.Z. Morano