Goodreads asked P.J. Donison:

Can you tell us a two-sentence horror story?

P.J. Donison When Mark and Celine’s voices harmonized just so, even Tim and Rodge—the drunks in the back—felt the shift in the air and paused mid-sip to recall other nights by a distant fire, oily tears pooling in their rheumy eyes. Tim and Rodge’s shallow joy ran dark with the blood of those whose memories they washed down with another round, this and every night.

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