Above everything, Mr. Smith loved the secrecy of his past, for which the new environment seemed quite unwelcoming.
Here, in this new home, I man he never expected to see ever again was living next door. He was among the people Mr. Smith had mourned a long time ago when the news of their death arrived. But the news about this very man was misrepresenting because M.J Wood wasn't dead. He was only abducted and kept in the enemies' camp, from where he escaped much later.
Mr. Smith and M.J Wood were contemporaries of a war. So many soldiers died by bullets in that war. Many others were abducted and killed. For smith, he only got a bullet that stuck in his left ankle, but his behaviour made people think there was another bullet in his head.
Seeing Wood around his apartment over a decade after the war was exceedingly overwhelming – not for joy nor the rough old days. A lot have changed now. It was no longer the Smith that swore to keep his country safe even if the price meant his life. The new Smith was a habitual killer that loved terminating innocent lives.
This was not to continue from the day Wood paid him a surprising visit. If he was a good host, Wood neither knew nor asked. He only tried to maintain the closeness they shared at the war front.
But he was to realize the magnitude of danger he walked into when he barged into Smith's apartment to find him counting pinkies.
"Holy heaven!" he screamed in shock.
He wrestled to leave that apartment alive. If he did not make that visit, perhaps, his pinky would be the next to be counted.
Upon his escape, Wood ran to the police. And when Smith was arrested, the pinkies in his secret box were 69, stocked in a metal box beside a huge volume of formaldehyde.
Wow! This is nice. Didn't expect mr. Smith to attempt killing his friend. Nice story