story Base on Mystery
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I found the broken glass of the window scattered over the shag carpet. Across the room, beneath the armchair, there was a dead sparrow. We had ourselves a mystery.
Ryan’s first conjecture, not unwarranted, was that the bird struggled before it died, coming to its final resting place several feet from the window. But he ignored the bullet hole in the far wall.
Ryan was always attracted to the easiest solution. And after discovering that our parents had once been international assassins and were now in quiet retirement, I wished that I had listened to him and ignored my curiosity.
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