Dressed to Kill
“When she opened her eyes, seeing a slit of cruel sunlight through the drapes, she remembered coming home at dawn, dropping a Placidyl, crawling exhausted into bed, then the relief of sleep, the comfort of that solid dark wall. She closed her eyes against the sunlight and reached out for the telephone on the bedside table, her hand colliding with a half-empty glass of water. Shit. The water slopped across the table, around a box of Kleenex, then dripped on to the rug. She sat upright and wondere...d why she still felt so god-awful tired, like the weariness was in the marrow of her bones—not something you could exorcise with simple chemical wizardry. Her legs ached, the calves especially. The base of her spine felt sore too. Coming apart at the seams, she thought. Like a bargain basement bra. What could you expect after last night? She held the telephone in one hand while with the other she lightly massaged the muscle of her right calf.
“This is a recorded message from the morgue,”MoreLess
“This is a recorded message from the morgue,”MoreLess
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