He was shivering, not because of the cold (his car was warm because of electric heating), but because he was all nerves. He threw back his head, placed a Valium tablet on his tongue and washed it down with a mouthful of gin.

After ten minutes, the gun stopped rattling in his hand. He got out of the car, took a deep breath and walked over to the front door. It was ajar. He walked into the living room and found the naked bodies of his wife and her lover lying on the sofa, a bullet hole in each head.

[100 words]

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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