In the yellow room with its steel fixtures, Loreen wondered if the person or persons climbed into her house and planted the letter. Fresh from the lab, she considered the note to be a harbinger of possible danger. She called the examiner again.
“Still no traces?” she asked.
“No, the message you already know is scrawled all wrong, yet it is in tact,”
Loreen’s eyes furrowed. “No DNA…anything?”
“Again, Mrs. Breen, if we had anything we would’ve notified you.”
“I understand. Thank you.” She canceled the call.
Then, she did her own light sleuthing. She crossed into the star room with its black and silver features. She looked in drawers, behind pillows, anything. She came up with nothing. She walked through the robot room with all the automatons on the walls. Loreen rested. Then, she returned to the yellow room just to bring up her spirits. As she peered around the space, she noticed there had been a door off the hinges. She pushed it open and the spring air came through the third level of her home. With courage, she dared to go out on the balcony. Her special care not to disturb Herschel and the kids almost came to an abrupt halt. She sprung back into the room and slammed the door shut.
Somehow, her hair stayed in place and her makeup did not smudge at all of the commotion. Instead, she continued to move intrepidly, always searching, always trying to find that one clue that would tie all of this together. The sunny colors of the room did perk her up a bit. This remained her second favorite room in the house besides her office. The deposition in which she found herself seemed to burn with a fury that she wanted to squash like a lit cigar.
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Skyler Saunders
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