Diane Vallere - Style & Error 03 - the Brim Reaper
“A piece of Bubble Wrap covered his bald head, distorting his features. A large pomegranate-colored stain pressed against the plastic. His vacant eyes stared through the pockets of air. His torso was wrapped in Bubble Wrap, and his arms were secured by his sides. “Is he dead?” I asked, approaching the body. I dropped to my knees and put my hand on his wrist. There was no pulse, no nothing. The temperature of his skin was cool, like a chicken breast that had been left on the counter to defrost. I... shivered and looked around the office. The air conditioner was on high even though it was October. On the floor by the base of the air conditioning unit sat a pair of royal blue reading glasses. “This is Dirk Engle,” I said, standing too quickly. I tipped forward at a dangerous angle and caught myself on the corner of the desk. The window was pushed open and a breeze snapped the shades against the frame. A small lamp on the bookcase behind the desk was on, a single bulb shedding light on the scene.MoreLess
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