It was a Wednesday, when Riley saw the dead pigeon. Unlike her friend who was with her at the time and openly expressed her disgust and discomfort at the sight of the rotting corpse, Riley felt a happiness that seemed to fill her entire being with pure and complete satisfaction. She knew better than to openly express this perverse joy.

Riley did not ever feel this way before, and she began to create opportunities like this, whereby she could see the carcass of a pigeon and feel alive at the sight of the death of a helpless bird. She became the feared and dreaded Pigeon Hunter.

Four Wednesdays later, when Riley’s mother knocked on her bedroom door, she expected the usual sight of her daughter sleeping soundly in her newly purchased grey bed.

Instead, she was greeted by the sight of Riley floating in a pool of blood, surrounded by numerous pigeon feathers, and a single note with the words “Karma is a pige.”


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