I am at the mall with my Boyfriend to investigate the murder of somebody. We weren’t even told that a murder had occurred, operating on his hunch alone and doing so under the radar of local police. There’s a pressure in the air and I keep tipping my head up as if my nose might bleed at any moment.
There isn’t a single clue to be seen, and I keep looking out the window presumably to catch the killer fleeing the premises. From behind me I hear Zac’s voice, “You’re out of focus, what is missing?” Like a camera lens I adjust and the glass in front of me appears to have a frost shadow where a leaf has fallen to the ground, like the chalking of a body. We’ve been struggling so hard, dissecting the floor for evidence, that we haven’t been looking at the walls.
There are nails in the walls, and all over there are tangles of long, dark hair caught up in them like some sick geoboard. I understood something in that moment, that the clue was not the important part.
I kept having that thought over and over, “this is the clue, this is not the important part.” When I woke up I couldn’t remember if the hair belonged to the victim or the killer.