carly part one

This story started here.

And now here she was, in an alley illuminated by a single yellow bulb, looking down at Danny's body. She thought back a few hours.

After their strained goodbyes, she'd wandered around for an hour or two. But then, standing on a corner, uncertain of which way to go next, she'd heard a police siren approaching. She'd started to run back the way she'd come, turning into the first alley she saw, and she'd nearly tripped over Danny's body. How had she ended up here? Had she been drawn here for some reason, or was it just stupid coincidence? She didn't know which possibility was more disturbing.

Would it be worse to live in a universe where there was an all-powerful force with nothing better to do with its time than to nudge her around like a chess piece until she was face to face with the dead body of her lover? Or would it be worse to live in a universe where something as jolting as this could happen by blind accident?

Ex-lover, she reminded herself.

The sound of a car approaching from the corner forced her to realize that this was the mental equivalent of nervous chatter. She took a final look at Danny's body, trying to file away as many details as she could with one glance, then she turned and ducked behind a sagging dumpster as the car approached. She was afraid they would see Danny's body and come to investigate, but the car kept driving by.

She turned and looked at Danny again. He was not very tall, probably only two or three inches taller than she was, and slender. His brown hair was shaved close around the sides, with a shock of longer hair in front which he always brushed out of his eyes.

Boyish, that was the total effect, and always had been, even before his mod haircut. Somehow unformed, not quite completed, and now he wasn't going to get that chance. She had a fleeting thought that it would have been better if she'd been killed and he had survived. At least she'd made it all the way to adulthood.

There was no way to tell what had killed him, and she thought that maybe she should turn him over to see what she could learn. She didn't make any move to do this, though. She made a face. After all, she hadn't wanted to touch him when he was alive, and death wasn't making him any more attractive.

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About Anthony Lee Collins

I write.
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