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- >Anon sat on the edge of the wall, slowly taking a drag off his joint.
- >He held it for a moment, enjoying the fruity taste of this particular strain of pot he acquired.
- >No matter what the day brought, it was always worth it just to sit on a wall, alone and think about things he wouldn't normally think about sober.
- >It was his vice, and he couldn't care less.
- >With nothing but roach, he flicked the remains and hopped off the wall to start his trek home.
- >In reality, it wasn't that far, but he always walked slowly. It gave him more time to think.
- >Really, there wasn't much to think about. His job was bearable, and payed well, considering it was just a supermarket job. School was decent; All in all, Anon's life was pretty great.
- >In what seemed like an hour, Anon arrived home.
- >He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door of his house.
- >It had belonged to his parents, but it was given to him in their will.
- >He closed the door behind him and kicked his shoes off, his feet grateful for the relief.
- >He walked to the fridge and pulled out an expensive looking chocolate pudding, his treat for a hard days work.
- >He grabbed a spoon and plopped himself onto the comfy three seater couch, and turned on the tv.
- >Not bothering to change the channel, he watched with glazed eyes as he slowly chewed on his pudding.
- >A loud knock on the door pulled Anon out of his daze.
- >Who could be knocking at this time? He checked his phone just to see how late it was.
- >23:31
- >Pretty late for someone to knock.
- >Quietly, Anon put his pudding down and pulled out his M1911, not wanting to be unarmed in case a robber were to be at the door.
- >He creeped up to the door and peered through the spyhole.
- >A shivering alabaster girl with purple curly hair stood at the door, tears seemed to be streaming down her face.
- >Curious, he stepped back from door and called out.
- >There was no answer from the other side of the door. Anon quickly checked his gun's magazine and took the safety off, smelling some sort of trap.
- "I said who is it?"
- >A small whimpering came from the other side, and a faint, sorrow laced reply.
- >"M-my name is Rarity, please let me in."
- >Anon lowered his gun, and thought for a moment.
- >There hadn't been many robberies in recent times around his neighborhood, and most people tended to have a weapon in their house.
- >Nevertheless, something seemed off about the situation.
- >There were many other houses around, why pick this one?
- >Even more curious now, he looked through the spyhole once more. This time, he carefully scrutinized the girl.
- >Moderate height, not too tall or short. Dressed very well, must be rich, fancy jewelry and hair.
- >She was a student at his school. Not one he hung out with, or saw much during or outside school.
- >Anon lowered his gun and unbolted the door, leaving the chain on. He opened the door a crack and asked.
- "Can I help you?"
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