The pulsing light of a television bled
throughout the room
as the only form of illumination.
The stench of soiled clothes
and months of dirty dishes
made this a crime scene
unlike any other.
Where do you start
or do you just turn around
knowing this is one case
that will never be resolved.
This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.
If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man. The challenge is on.
Or come back on Sunday to try my Sunday 160.If you can fill a text message, you can do this.