Hamlet sighed. The coffee shop was nearly empty now, the afternoon rush was over.
It was now around seven o'clock, and a light drizzle from the grey clouds outside was starting to turn into a heavy rain.
"I'm off, see you tomorrow Fort," Hamlet hung his apron and grabbed his keys from his cubby. Fort was slouched on a stool reading some pretentiously thick novel. He grunted and nodded his head as Hamlet rushed out into the rain. He jogged quickly over to his black Impala.
"I don't know why I didn't check the weather this morning," Hamlet thought to himself, his black shirt was completely saturated and clung tightly to his torso. Hamlet started his car and turned on the radio to drown out the near deafening clamor of the rain. He pulled out into the street and began his drive home.
Hamlet walked into the front door, carefully closing it behind him, as to not alert his family of his presence. He briskly walked over to the stairs and was about half way up them, when the front door opened again.
Hamlet froze.
A booming laugh filled the house. It was Paul.
Paul was good friends with Hamlets late father, and even better friends with Hamlet's now step-father, Claude. Paul, Claude and Hamlet's father had all gone to college together, and in turn they had all worked at the same company, Denmark Inc. Hamlets father had been the President and CEO until his untimely passing. Claude and Paul were also in very high ranking positions, and Claude had recently been promoted to President, in place of Hamlet's father.
Paul also happened to be the father of Laers, a long time acquaintance of Hamlet, and Opal.
Hamlet sprinted up the stairs, almost slipping at the top. He ran up the hall and to his room and closed the door behind him. Breathing hard, he rested against his door. Opal's shrill laugh echoed up the stairs, Hamlet grimaced.
Every Thursday, Hamlet's family invited their neighbors, Opal's family over for dinner. This had happened every Thursday since Hamlet's fathers' funeral, and Claude's inconveniently timed marriage to Gertrude, Hamlet's widowed mother.
Hamlet felt his cell phone buzz.
[From: Opal]
[To: Hamlet]
[Where are you? I saw your car out front! You can't hide from me Hammy baby :*]
Hamlet cursed to himself, "I should have parked in the back."
Hamlet flipped on the light, and proceeded to change out of his soggy work clothes. His phone buzzed again. And again. And again. He checked, all from Opal. Hamlet rolled his eyes and slipped on an emerald green sweater. He paired it with some ripped black denim jeans and a pair of black leather Oxfords.
He glanced in the mirror. He slicked back his platinum blonde hair. His cobalt blue eyes stared back at him. He sighed, "Into the mouth of the wolf."
Hamlet trudged down the stairs, and into the dining room.
"So glad you decided to join us, Hamlet," a grumbling voice called from across the room. Hamlet looked up to meet the icy eyes of his step-father. Claude smiled, but it seemed sinister.
"Dinner is served."