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Copycat

November 23, 2016 2 Comments

Copycat
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Carla saw the pile of crushed Froot Loops in the corner. A bright yellow smiley face painted on the wall behind it bled over the baseboard.

Need to clean my baseboards, she thought.

As she snapped latex gloves over her tattooed knuckles—L O V E  T H E E, a mantra repeated whenever she gazed down at her hands or when she slathered lotion onto her chapped skin—she called out to Riggs. “It’s a copycat.”

Riggs hoisted his belt up with his thumbs. “Gotta know it shouldn’t bleed.”

She sighed. “Amateurs, Detective.”

Soon, she’d be the evidence being collected.

By Erin Lunde

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Gina says

    November 23, 2016 at 12:02 pm

    I liked the foreshadowing with “bled” and “bleed.” Interesting.

    Reply
  2. Carrick says

    November 23, 2016 at 4:35 pm

    Nary a clue………..

    Reply

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