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I am the author of a new murder/mystery entitled "Sawgrass" A tale of smuggling, greed and murder
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WHEN SEEKING REVENGE, DIG TWO GRAVES
CONFUCIUS

    He rolled onto his side and scanned the room. When he tried to rise, bile swelled in his throat. He waited until it subsided then pushed into a sitting position.The room tilted and he paused, familiar with the feeling. When it passed he rose carefully waiting for the room to fall from under him. It didn't. He took a few tenative steps and finally, confident he wouldn't fall on his face he crossed the room.

    He stood at the bedroom door and waited for it, knowing it was there somewhere sneaking up on him. The bed was neatly made as it always was, not having been slept in for two years. It was just the way she left it. Her shoes were still on the floor next to her side of the bed. He crossed the room hoping to sneak past it but it found him. The loneliness swirled around the floor like a fog, a tangible living thing, snaking around  the base of the furniture, sliding up to engulf him again. He tried to ignore it but it would not be denied. He realized it was not as strong lately. Maybe it was losing some of its power.
    He turned on the shower and it slithered under the door and hung in the corners, around the base of the toilet, his constant companion.The booze helped for awhile and gave him some peace but it never stayed away forever, at least not while he was conscious. It dulled when he was occupied with work or other activities, lying in wait for him to return unprepared so it could barge in and beat him up inside again.

    Ali  dried himself and glanced in the mirror. The bags under his eyes weren't too noticable. He noticed the gray in his mustache, the crooked nose, broken five times. He felt old and tired.
    He poured himself a cup of hot, sweet Cuban coffee and decided breakfast would be a waste of time, his stomach would rebel against food anyway. Ali set his coffee cup in the sink with the rest of the dishes. He reached onto the top of the refrigerator and retrieved the pistol, clipping it to his belt. He picked up the leather clip and looked at the round gold badge pinned to it. The badge had the seal of the state of Florida and the words police department and detective. He slipped the badge onto the front of his belt and left the apartment.
    

TherHe rolled onto his sideand scanned the roomHe He He rolled onto his side atake him in his sleep? Ali wondered as he drove to the crime scene.He  His day had started like every other day for the last two years. He rolled onto his side and scanned the room. When he tried to rise, bile rose in his throat.  He waited-swallowing hard trying to choke it down then pushed up iThere nto a sitting position. The room tilted and he paused, waiting for the room to straighten up. When the dizziness passed he rose, carefully waiting for the room to fall from under him. It didn’t. He took a few tentative stThereps and finally, confident he wouldn’t fall on his face, he crossed into the bedroom.

            He stood at the bedroom door and waited for it, knowing the loneliness was there somewhere, sneaking up on him. The bed was neatly made as it always was, owing to not having been slept in for two years. The bed the covers were pulled taut, just the way she left them. Her shoes were still on the floor next to her side of the bed. He crossed the room hoping to sneak past but the feeling was there. Sadness swirled around the floor like a fog, a tangible living thing, snaking around the base of the furniture, sliding up to engulf him once again. He tried to ignore it but it would not be denied. He had noticed it was not as strong lately. It seemed to have lost some of its power. 

            He made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The loneliness slithered under the door and hung in the corners, around the base of the toilet, his constant companion. The booze gave him some peace but it never lasted long enough. Not while he was conscious.  The pain dulled when he was occupied with work or other mental activities, but lay in wait for him to return, unprepared, so it could barge in on his mind, beating him up inside once again.

            Ali showered then dried himself and glanced in the mirror. The bags under his eyes weren’t too noticeable. He noticed the gray in his mustache, the crooked nose, broken five times. He felt old and tired.  Ali dressed then went to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of hot, sweet Cuban coffee.  Retrieving the morning paper from the front stoop, he sat at the dinner table and read the paper slowly, wondering if anything in it was really worth reading. It was full of death and crime and bullshit.

throat.  He waited-swallowing hard trying to choke it down then pushed up into a sitting position. The room tilted and he paused, waiting for the room to straighten up. When the dizziness passed he rose, carefully waiting for the room to fall from under him. It didn’t. He took a few tentative steps and finally, confident he wouldn’t fall on his face, he crossed into the bedroom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            He sto

He rolled onto his side and scanned the room. When he tried to rise, bile rose in his throat.  He waited-swallowing hard trying to choke it down then pushed up into a sitting position. The room tilted and he paused, waiting for the room to straighten up. When the dizziness passed he rose, carefully waiting for the room to fall from under him. It didn’t. He took a few tentative steps and finally, confident he wouldn’t fall on his face, he crossed into the bedroom.

            He stood at the bedroom door and waited for it, knowing the loneliness was there somewhere, sneaking up on him. The bed was neatly made as it always was, owing to not having been slept in for two years. The bed the covers were pulled taut, just the way she left them. Her shoes were still on the floor next to her side of the bed. He crossed the room hoping to sneak past but the feeling was there. Sadness swirled around the floor like a fog, a tangible living thing, snaking around the base of the furniture, sliding up to engulf him once again. He tried to ignore it but it would not be denied. He had noticed it was not as strong lately. It seemed to have lost some of its power. 

            He made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The loneliness slithered under the door and hung in the corners, around the base of the toilet, his constant companion. The booze gave him some peace but it never lasted long enough. Not while he was conscious.  The pain dulled when he was occupied with work or other mental activities, but lay in wait for him to return, unprepared, so it could barge in on his mind, beating him up inside once again.

od at the bedroom door and waited for it, knowing the loneliness was there somewhere, sneaking up on him. The bed was neatly made as it always was, owing to not having been slept in for two years. The bed the covers were pulled taut, just the way she left them. Her shoes were still on the floor next to her side of the bed. He crossed the room hoping to sneak past but the feeling was there. Sadness swirled around the floor like a fog, a tangible living thing, snaking around the base of the furniture, sliding up to engulf him once again. He tried to ignore it but it would not be denied. He had noticed it was not as strong lately. It seemed to have lost some of its power. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            He made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The loneliness slithered under the door and hung in the corners, around the base of the toilet, his constant companion. The booze gave him some peace but it never lasted long enough. Not while he was conscious.  The pain dulled when he was occupied with work or other mental activities, but lay in wait for him to return, unprepared, so it could barge in on his mind, beating him up inside once again.

 
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