Who Actually Ordered the Takeout in Apartment 502?
Language: en
Ten o’clock at night. On the dot. A delivery guy in a baseball cap knocked on the door of apartment 502. “Food delivery!” We were all roommates in a three-bedroom apartment. Ethan, the one we called Specs, opened the door. He had his headphones on, deep in some online game, and waved a dismissive hand. “Not mine.” Without another word, the delivery guy pulled out a knife and slashed his throat. Then, still holding the takeout bag, he pushed open the door to the next room. “Excuse me, did you order food?” Mark, the gym instructor who lived in that room, looked up, startled. “No, who are…