At Least They're Committed

The blessed ride home from work, phew. Who knew my feet could go downhill that quickly working on a cement floor? Sad.

Oh, man, is that a dead deer on the side of 76? Ah, no, just a tarp. Maybe there’s a corpse inside. If so, whomever dumped it there wasn’t too bright — that is quite the unique tan and brown canvas. Once the body is discovered, they’ll have ID’d the murderer in no time.

I’m leaving. I hate to, but since I seem to be rotting from the inside out I don’t have much choice. I wonder if I’ll cry. That place has been my sanctuary, my light in the darkness, my refuge in the storm and any other cliches you can think of.

Burlap sack! It’s also on the side of the 76. It’s long and thin, but you can tell there’s something inside. Maybe it’s the disembodied legs of the person wrapped in the tarp a mile back. But if they took the time to cut off the victim’s legs, they wouldn’t stop there, would they? I mean, Carolyn Blanton did (and made the leg-meat into a stew), but I doubt many others would leave it at that.

Furthermore, I was discovered yesterday by a former colleague. My haven is so far from what I used to do it took her a minute to put together that it was me. It was nice to chat with her and we might get together down the road and all that, but she goes into the office once a week and she could let people know where she saw me thus the sanctity of the sanctuary is no longer.

Hmmm, no more body parts at the 76 roadside. Pulling off now, heading to Broadway, which turns into my street. Wait! Not so fast! At the intersection of 70th and Broadway, there’s a plastic bag with something roundish in it! The head of course. Gosh I hope they find the pieces and the perp soon.