It was six o’clock in the morning and Tom’s head felt like the Fourth of July. He stood in the kitchen staring at the toaster, dazed from last night’s bender. The first thing he did when he woke up was to put his grandfather’s shotgun in the rafters of the garage. He couldn’t risk another incident like last night.

The coffee stopped brewing and he poured himself a cup. Tom was tempted to add a little Irish to his black brew to take the edge off his hangover, but the very thought of it made him sick. He held his mug close to his nose and breathed in the warmth. It was dark roast and he loved the smell of fresh brewed coffee. There was a knock at the door before he could take his first sip of the morning.

Tom opened the door and Dan stood there....

Please subscribe to keep reading.