Accordionist Murdered by Cats
One moment you’re at the top of the stairs heading down to the garage. You’ve got a gig. The first since lockdown. The accordion is already in the trunk of the car.
The next moment, you’ve tumbled down the flight. Your arm is twisted behind you in a way that it’s not meant to. A bone pokes through just below your knee. There’s another hole somewhere, but you can’t see…