by Nigel G. Mitchell
Timothy Landon approached the old ladies knitting by the window. "You know why I'm here."
One with a pair of scissors nodded. "You know we are the Fates."
Timothy surveyed the three women. "You've got the yarn, so you're Clotho. You're doing the knitting, so you're Lachesis. And you've got scissors, you're Atropos."
"We prefer Cloris, Laura, and Agatha these days."
"What are you doing here in a retirement home?"
"We've retired. All us gods did. But we're still spinning the thread of life. And yours has just run out."
She cut the yarn and watched Timothy fall down, dead.
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