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The Opposition by Wil MooreSUMMARY: The death of the parents of brothers cause bitter hatred between them.
"Alright honey, I'm off." Mike said snatching the keys up from the kitchen table.
"Wait a minute. I thought I was taking the car this morning. We are completely out of everything. There won't be anything to eat for lunch or dinner if I don't get to the store."
"Cassie if I don't get to the office to pick up the Stine's case file I won't have a job and we won't have any money for you to go to the store with. This is a high profile case that just fell into the firm's lap. I have no choice but to get started right away."
"Then let's go together." Cassie said. Her head cocked slightly as her lips formed a minute pout.
Mike smiled. "Alright, but we need to go now."
"Just let me get my shopping list."
Cassie trotted off down the hall.
John didn't remember much from his childhood, especially his early years, but even into his early teens the memories were hazy at best. Whether the time was uneventful, or he just didn't bother to think about past for so long that the memories had faded into oblivion he wasn't sure. But certainly he did remember that Saturday morning when his mother and father left together in their only car. It was not only the last time he saw them but also the last moments of their lives.
It was eleven in the morning on a Sunday and John was still in bed, a testament to the amount of alcohol he had had the night before. He pulled the covers back to reveal a thin but well defined chest and arms. Ordinarily a woman would accompany him and his headache in the bed on such a morning but last night he wasn't in the mood to turn on the charm. He let out a wallop of a morning sigh and began meticulously peering around the room.
It was his routine; he never got off the bed after waking up without checking every inch of the room for any change from the night before, no matter how small. He kept everything in his house just so and never changed it. Every bottle of cologne, the position and rotation of every lamp, kitchen appliances, soup cans in the cupboard, everything had a precise and unchanging place. If anything was misplaced, or altered in any way he would know that his brother Nathan had been there. He hadn't seen him since they had been sent to separate orphanages and John never regretted the fact. He hated him as much as any man could hate another.
After feeling confident that his brother had not paid his apartment a visit last night John showered and dressed. He parted his thick brown hair perfectly to the left and shaved. In the kitchen he opened a new pack of cigarettes and lit one. Always a new pack, never smoke a cigarette out of an open pack if it has left my person." He made a BLT sandwich and threw the stem portion of the tomato in the sink, turned on the water and watched it slide into the garbage disposal. He flipped the switch but something wasn't right. Instead of the familiar grinding noise as the refuse was consumed by the spinning blades only a slight whine could be heard. Immediately John let his legs go limp and fell backwards as fast as gravity would allow.