Metallic

By JR Jurzynski

Metallic.

The smell.

No getting rid of the smell.

Spilled.

The knife was sharpened to razor-sharp.

Preparation.

Cuts like a knife.

Heh-heh.

Focus.

Stay focused.

Trace evidence.

Drip, drip.

Oil.

The honing motion leaves markings on the sharpening stone and the blade.

Round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows.

Heh-heh.

Minute serrations.

The oil and markings can be identified.

Problematic?

Trademark.

Sadistic bastard.

Who?

Me?

Heh-heh.

The sun settling toward Greenwich.

It was almost time.

Did she know it was almost time?

Probably not.

I did not ask her to edit my work.

And now…

Heh-heh.

Someone else’s work is about to get edited.

Heh-heh.

Busy-bodies, dead bodies, no life.

Will she piss her pants at the same time?

She doesn’t wear dresses.

Most don’t.

DNA.

Blood yes, urine possibly.

Pig Mountain or high cholesterol?

Nope.

Heh-heh.

I stopped typing and thought.

Where did that come from?

1000-pound mammoth.

What do you do with it?

Can you submit to it?

Would you?

Reflecting.

Kick the tires.

Peek under the hood.

Snoop around.

See what you find.

Fear.

Parked adjacent.

Drive away from the curb, Jeffrey.

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