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Wishing on a Star
The long walk home seemed too normal; I didn’t feel like a murderer. It was a cold night, but I barely felt the air’s chill. The sky was crisp and full of stars. The Imp danced a merry jig upon my shoulder. He kept congratulating me on a job well done. His shrill little giggle filled my ear.
It took forever to walk home; I kept to the quiet streets, guided by the Imp and kept out of sight from the few people out at this strange hour.
Did I feel regret? Not then, that would come, but not yet.