A terrible house guest


“I’m alone” came his voice over the line. She scorched her tongue once more with the too sweet coffee. Energy seeped through both their ears while wine fueled cheer buzzed in the hallway. In the morning the maid sprayed carpet cleaner on the plum stains while the forensic team plucked markers off the walls. 


“They could have helped him” rang a gravelled voice. 

“If only.” she chimed; “Blood’s terrible on loop pile.”



 Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead.
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