THE COLD INSIDE
by AL BRUNO III
Friday April 12, 1985
Reginald stared sullenly at the pistol and wondered if he could wrestle it from Phil’s grip. He figured he might be able to risk it, the guy looked old enough. He could still get out of this, he still had the money. All he had to do was grab that bottle with his good hand and use it as a weapon.
It wasn’t the gun he felt against his cheek, it was the winebottle. It was just glass that Reginald felt pressing cold against his skin, not metal. The rainwater spilled out over his face, flooding his nostrils, leaving him coughing.