orley Munson sat in the dark in his large quiet home. All of the lights were off even though it was almost night outside. Morley Munson sat in a chair that his own father used to favor (when he was alive). His eyes were hidden behind his thick glasses but each was wide open and each lid was blinking repeatedly. Morley Munson felt like a trapped animal (like that very first mouse that he has squished with his little brown shoes so many years ago).
Morley Munson sat with the newspaper in his lap, unable to believe that the woman whom he believed to be the great love of his life was now dead. Murdered. Killed by someone (and not even by himself). This didn’t make any sense to him. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. Morley Munson had always hoped his deadly rampage would lead him to a better place, to some spot (or destination) that he was meant to be at.
Morley Munson told himself that all of this must have happened for some reason–he knew that it had and he would still discover why. He had to know ‘why.’ Then, out of the darkness, came a ring from the doorbell downstairs. Morley Munson froze in his seat. Not a muscle moving.
Morley Munson crept downstairs. He crossed the foyer and listened at the door. No more knocks from outside. Only silence now. Morley Munson slowly opened up the front door and looked around. Nothing. He was puzzled (and a little bit frightened).
Morley Munson was about to close the door when he saw an envelope placed on the (WELCOME) mat at his feet. He picked it up and tore it open. The message was short and simple: “We are both murderers so let’s play a game.”