A Victim-less Crime

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.

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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.

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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.

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