Finally you find yourself at the farm house, and not a moment too soon. The needle on your gas gauge lies flat, though you could probably run on fumes for a little while more. With a sigh, you unlock and open the door of the rental, and trudge up to the farmhouse, a solitary light illuminating a single window.
Stepping up to the door, you tap softly on the door. Once, twice, thrice. Seconds pass. Impatience sets in. You repeat the action, this time louder. Once, twice, thri--- the door opens. This startles you, and, being startled, you reach for the object in your waistband.
You whip your hand forward, ready to deal with the foe. You come face to face, though the back-light renders the man --woman?-- as a simple black profile. With bravery stitched across your own visage, you hold forward your...
...lip chap.
Damn.
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