Florence Fiction Friday (4)

(I’ll be in Croatia without wifi this weekend, so I’m posting early. Have a blessed weekend!)

Sitting in a circle with the lights off and doors bolted, Greg, Matt, Alissa, and I stared at one another. No one said a word. Matt didn’t seem as scary with his legs crossed like a pretzel, but there was no humor to be found in the situation.Alissa had a coughing attack, breaking the silence.

 “So…” Greg started.

 “Should we fly to a different country? Do we have to run away?” Alissa asked.

 “Maybe they didn’t get a good look at you,” Greg said, uncertain.

 I knew the baker recognized me, but for some reason I didn’t want to tell them that. “Do you wanna take that chance?”

 “Yeah, kinda.”

 “You’re an idiot.”

 He threw up his hands. “Hey, you two are the ones in this mess. Matt and I don’t have to do shit about it.”

 Matt nudged him. “We have to help them.”

 I nodded my appreciation while Greg grunted, his goofy smile nowhere in sight.

 “They know where we live.”

 “Do we call the police? Do we shut up?”

 “Maybe we should just go talk to them,” Greg suggested. “Matt and I are in a frat, we know how to communicate with guys.”

 “By guys, do you mean Mafia members?” Alissa shrieked. She ran to the window, afraid that someone was still out there and overheard us. Through the bolted window, I doubted it, but I understood her fear.

 “That’s a big assumption. People do drugs all the time,” Greg said.

 “We aren’t talking about your local weed dealer back home on campus. I say we run.”

 “We have class.”

 “We have lives to save.”

 “You’re right, we should catch them. Make sure they don’t hurt anyone else,” Greg replied.

 “I meant our own, idiot.”

 “I need a drink to clear my head.”

 Typical frat douche, I thought to myself, disappointed. I’d been getting along better with my roommates, but in no way believed us close enough to handle international murder scenes.

 Matt finally spoke: “I booked us a trip to Prague.”

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