The soggy skin of my old man crinkled as he pushed his forefinger and thumb on his forehead to think. I latched my young fingers upon his worried face. I dipped my tongue on his cigarette-covered ones and devoured his whisky lips; but I opened my eyes when he closed his, to capture the bliss he had.
The moon raged brighter and the fogs clouded the night’s body. I retrieved the gun from my drawer. I did not knock on his daughter’s door, but just entered the room. My old man had found out about his princess’s growing child. His health strained after the news, but my heart grew warmer.
I pointed the gun at the sleeping figure and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed. The blood splattered. Her baby never made it out. His footsteps smashed the floors. Around my naked hips, he rounded his arms and sighed before he snuggled his nose on my vanilla neck.
No more problems for my dear boy.
WORD COUNT: 165
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