Cold Case

I awake to the missing doctor leaning over me.

Handsome. Hawk-nosed. I wish I was in a half-open cocktail dress, not my street clothes.

“I can’t feel the gunshot,” I say. “Am I para—”

“I don’t know where to begin, detective. You’ve been murdered. Like me.”

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: