I saw the worry in his eyes, the beads of perspiration running down his forehead, and his nervousness as he strode towards the foyer. I could tell he did something wrong. Something that isn't supposed to be done. Something that would mean Jail, if told to the police. He committed a crime! I had to talk to him! I silently sauntered forwards in his direction. I reached his side and whispered, O so quietly, "What is wrong, Mark? Don't you know that you shouldn't act nervous unless you really are nervous?" "I am nervous," came his reply. "Whatever for?" I pondered.
He answered, "I have done something. What it is, I cannot admit. For if I tell you, I shall pay for it." I informed him that he could trust me, and that I was his friend. I wouldn't turn him in to the authorities! "Or would I?" I murmured to myself. "Fine," he whispered. "Open the closet and you'll see."
Dun Dun Dun!!!!
-Hannah Liebscher
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