A man walked up the old, creaking stair way, holding a long rifle in one hand. From where you were standing, looking down, you could see the glow of his cigarette. He settled on the step, loading the rifle, and looking out the window, at the street below. "Just like JF Kennedy."He said to himself. You let out a gasp. He froze, and his head turned slowly, looking up, straight into your eyes. "Well, well, well, who's this?" He asked, in a cold voice.
You?
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