this morning #403.

this morning, during her twenty-fourth hour in bed bingeing on true crime documentaries & a mix of sweet & savory snack mixes, her eyes surrendered & slowly fell shut. the sun had just cycled around & all she had for it was a swirling assemblage of theories about murders, tales of obsession & violence & evil that would soon be transformed into anxious dreams. pins on corkboards. scrawled-upon maps. police sketches. crime tape. blood splatter. female tragedy parsed out by deep male voices. when she woke, the blur of images running through her head would provide as much clarity as the true crime stories that had spawned them. the level of fear from both would also be equal.