by Mr. W
The new neighbor was quite plain; you wouldn’t notice him if you ran him over with your car. Only a little girl two doors down detected that he always knotted a weathered gray scarf tightly around his neck, even in fair weather. She knew the man had a secret: Was it a terrible secret?
One sunny afternoon, when the man arrived home from his unknown job, the little girl’s curiosity broke her will. She clattered down the wooden steps of her house, dashed barefoot through the damp grass, and grasped a dangling scarf end. “Your secret!” she cried as she tugged on the scarf with all her weight, “Your secret!”
Eyes wide, the man clutched his throat and choked out, “How did you know I murdered my wife?”