No More Gifts

No More GiftsHolding fast to the handrail, Avis hitched herself up the narrow bank of stairs. She paused at the landing to unlatch the door to the roof. As it swung full, someone moved in the shadows. Avis drew back, catching her breath. The figure lowered his gun with a laugh."Sorry!" he sang. "Thought you were a pheasant."She stared at him sullenly. He was squatting with his back to the ledge, the revolver cradled loosely in his lap. A ragged circle of cigarette butts surro...