found drama

How to turn a pistol with seven bullets into a room with nine dead bodies.  Sneaking around; the art of silence.  Intense close-quarters gun battles.  Definitely more CIA than the corral OK.  Breaking and entering, garrotting, and the like.  Which comes in handy enough soon enough.  (Quick cut.)  Leaving the party; my lovely partner is driving but is for some reason naked.  She pulls the car into a space behind a condo complex.  This is where we live?  She assures me.  There is another party to attend (a late night affair) but the too-long-to-tell story about the missing clothes needs resolution first.  I am to run inside and grab a few garments on her behalf.  My keys do not work in the lock of the outside door but it pushes open easily enough.  (Odd.)  Inside, the layout is not at all what I remember.  There are more doors, more units than I recall.  I run into someone (a stranger? she recognizes me though) in the hallway with an armload of laundry.  This is not the right building.

About Rob Friesel