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Friday 20 July 2018

The Small Hours

He cracked open another can of lager, the last one he had. He was so tired, but he was determined to finish the full case he'd bought.
He took a swig as he watched some late night/early morning infomercial bullshit.
He heard a noise from the garden.
Was the fox going through the bins again?
He stood up and lurched drunkenly towards the window. He tore open the curtains and saw a gang of twenty or so people in his garden. Beyond them his car was on fire.
They'd finally found him.


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