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They Aren’t Real

They Don’t Exist

J.R. Leckman


Published by J.R. Leckman at Smashwords


Front Cover Design: Laurie Ricard


Copyright J.R. Leckman 2010


Smashwords Edition, License Note

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He could hear the car door in the parking lot slam. His eyes flitted to the clock briefly, an old hand carved wooden deal, the kind with bears carved on the side. It was six in the afternoon and the sun was already over the mountain. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, which gave him a perfect view of the parking lot. The woman stood next to her car, a black mustang, one of the older ones. He was never good with cars, but who cared? He could see the silvery horse emblem in the grill of the vehicle, which had been the dead give away.

The blonde next to the car was smoking a cigarette, obviously not in a hurry to check in. Her hair was short enough that the wind caught every wisp of it, blowing it past her face so he couldn’t get a good look at her. He laughed to himself. If she had been wearing leather pants and a jacket to match, it would look like a scene from a bad action movie. The kind where she would flick her cigarette, pull a pistol from behind her jacket, then make her way down to cabin four where she would exterminate the men who had been hired to kill her. As it was, she was wearing a striped sweater and blue jeans, hardly good fair for an over the top action sequence.

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