Monday, 30 January 2017
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...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
Agent Kozak could hear the telephone ring outside of Apartment 701 at Parklands.
....Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
You could hear it in the hallway.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
And outside the white door with a no housekeeping sign.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
You could hear it in the living room. Where the littered wine, cups and chocolate were the only signs of life.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
And even over the torn and fallen canvas in the corner of the window.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
Everything in the room listened to the lifeless hum of the unattended to telephone.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
Slow. Repetitive. Unanswered
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
The air thick with the smell of wine and decades old yoghurt.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
Yes, to hear it, you'd think that nobody was home.
...Krrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
But there on the bed. Covered in grey mélange wool was the limp body of Abigail Mitchell.
Krrrr-click.
