He was at a crossroads. Whichever path he chose would ruin someone's life.
Either he had to slip this pill into some chick's drink, or just kill her himself instead. Reason? He was almost 100% sure that she was a secret spy birds working for the bourgeoisie. You see, every single living bird had died in 1986 and were replaced by spies which were now watching his every move. Even though he loved this chick, he had to get rid of her.
He held the pill tightly in his hand. He began to sweat. Thoughts began storming and swirling in his head.
"Capgras Delusion," They would call it. "You're just crazy and imagining things."
He was not.
"Hey, Mindy?" He spoke with a wavering voice. When she turned to him, his heart began to race. "Maybe I could, uh, meet you outside for a bit?" He plastered a fake smile onto his face. Grinning from ear to ear, she nodded and took his hand.
He lead her outside of the bar and into the alleyway next to it. I guess I'm just going to have to... Kill her I guess...
Mindy began talking about the midnight sky, how the stars twinkled, and drunkenly admired the moon. Intoxication. Birds easily get intoxicated, yes, but would a spy really get drunk on the job? Yes. Just to throw him off, he bet.
He pinned her to the brick wall. "Where's Mindy?" He interrogated her. "What did you do to her? Why did Reagan kill all of the birds? Why are you a spy?"
"What the fuck?" Mindy laughed. "I can't believe you..."
He huffed. Of course, this was just like those stupid bird-robot spies. Always trying to cover their tracks.
"Found me out," She continued.
He froze. "Wait what the fuck?" He stammered. "You're just gonna give up your cover like that?"
