This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
© 2009 by Kristine Williams. All rights reserved.
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Alex was angry.
He stared into his glass of whisky, seeing nothing but his own brooding face reflected darkly back at him -- the ice a cold mirror of the heat boiling inside. When his mood was this black, few people dared approach with anything less than extremely good news. He knew that because they told him, well after his mood had changed. But he'd never before noticed that look staring back at him as the ice slowly diluted very old scotch.