The Guest

It was a lie, of course. No tells showed—his performance flawless—but I just felt it. For a long moment, I stared out the window. In the park beyond, my gaze playing on the dog-walkers, collars turned up, trekking stubborn, and on the wheeling birds and leaves. Let him sweat. 

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Thankyou, no.”

Did he know I knew?

“So, why are you really here?”

He steepled long fingers and sighed. Would he deny the implication?

“Good. Enough pretence. Sadly, the task is to kill you.” He offered an inlaid wooden box. “It’ll be painless.”

“I appreciate that.”

.

Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here