A story starter
The first body was behind the door when we opened it.
The first body was behind the door when we opened it. Sarah shrugged and looked away, but I kept staring. Where had it come from? What was it doing here? How did it die?
There were obvious answers, of course; the body was just lying there. And where had it come from? Well, someone’s life had started somewhere (between the legs of a screaming woman to be precise), and well, it had ended here– or near enough as to not matter much.
Sarah didn’t go into the room, but I did. Those questions– yeah, I had surface answers, answers I could just shrug off in an existentialist way– but Sarah was the nihilist, not me.
The room was blue. All blue. Blue carpet (except the brown streaks where the blood had soaked in), light blue walls, a dark blue sofa. A small desk sat in the corner, a blue iMac perched atop it, humming softly.
The mouse dangled from its cord, halfway to the floor.
Which is how I saw the second body.
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