Who is the biggest liar of them all?
Marked COMPLETE on 30/06/2018
❛❛A shattered mirror can be deceptive.❜❜
It all started with a cracked mirror.
Everything changed with a coincidence.
A mirror can't lie, that's what the onlooker thinks. But don't f...
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Sanders and his friend jumped out of the car and made their way inside Morris's shop. Their unannounced walking in made it look like they belonged there. But what was Sanders doing at a rival shop, and that too when the owner was under arrest? Clark had no clue. He could only take pictures.
He stealthily followed the two intruders, his police instincts kicking in, making him highly suspicious. He saw them make a turn and open a door just beside Morris's office door. The door, Clark could see, opened into a flight of stairs. Maybe it led to a basement or a storeroom of some kind. How come they were so familiar with this place? And the main question: WHAT THE DEVIL WERE THEY DOING HERE?
Clark realized that he could not follow them down the stairs. He could be seen quite easily if they turned around, and he could not risk being caught off guard. Secondly, he had no idea what (or who) was down the stairs. He could not imperil himself by walking straight into a bunch of strangers, armed with a camera and a gun, assuming there really was someone down there. So instead, he decided to go outdoors and check if there were any other means of spying the two trespassers from outside.
Fortunately, he found a narrow window at the bottom of the shop wall at the outside; and, supposedly, high towards the ceiling from the inside of the basement. Which meant he had an upper hand, or rather, an upper eye.
The window was only as high as his knee, which is why he had to crouch down to look and click pictures. He tried to expose his body as less as he could and prayed nobody caught him snooping around someone's basement window. The windowpane was shut, but it was made of glass. Old, dirty, smudged glass, to be exact. The translucence was for the best because it made him less discernible.
He rubbed off some of the dirt with his hand and sat down to work. He could see Sanders and his friend quite clearly. They were talking to someone. This person was bulkier and had what seemed like ginger hair. Clark couldn't be sure due to the discoloured glass window separating them. He clicked.
Suddenly, Sanders' friend dug into his pocket and took out something. Maybe he was taking out some dough—No, wait—HOLY JALAPEÑO! Was it...weed? Yeah, what else? Clark muttered profanities under his breath. Could today get any stranger? He doubted it. He clicked.
It was definitely weed. The guy took out some more packets of white powder. Now that the shock of surprise had subsided, a funny feeling took over him. He could sense that Sanders was no sinless lamb. He swept his eyes over the rest of the basement. Woah, he hadn't noticed all of that before. There were boxes of the white stuff. There were guns, though not many. There were streaks of scarlet on the wall—blood. It looked like a dried up base of a drug lord.
He clicked.
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