The Brownstone

[This is a microfiction, a short story that fits (barely) within a tweet. Posted originally on 8/30/2018]

Stewart’s exhausted body collapsed onto the cold wet steps leading to the Brownstone. Rain hammered his outstretched arms, covered with wounds. His hand found purchase on the doorknob and he frantically turned. Locked. Behind, the lupine growl was more felt than heard.

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