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Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

All signs pointed to a rather violent end. The lights were off, the windows smashed. Curiously, the internet had been disconnected. Why would someone disconnect the the computers if they were going to blackout the house? I suspected that the intruder was someone who knew that her pc could be reconnected to a mobile hot spot. That meant the intruder didn't want the victim's absence in a skype call to be a sign of something wrong. I'd need a list of all of her friends. The hard part would be getting her online ones.

I sighed and took a drag on a Marlbros Red. It was like sucking on a desert somewhere south of a party. This whole thing was going to be a shit show and here I was just passing time.

I'd hoped that while I was busy taking in the details, that she'd show up and assure me that everything was okay. No such luck but that's the way my life runs. As I left the apartment, I spat the cigarette onto a sidewalk hot enough to burn skin even at ten o'clock at night. It was just another brutal San Jose summer.


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

It took a noir turn in the middle, which was refreshing. Not many noir pieces on here. I'm not sure who 'she' is, but I relate to wanting a person show up and not getting what I want.

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