I pushed my hair gingerly away from my glasses as I waited at his door.
People at work found Joseph odd, yet I thought him intriguing. He greeted me with a smile and a bottle of Merlot. When we drained the last drops he smiled,
“Pop to the wine cellar and fetch another?”
Opposite, a door was ajar and curiosity overcame me. As I pushed it open light fell upon the severed heads, each suspended on a pole like Macbeth, their eyes gouged, empty frames illuminating their dead sockets.
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