Rolling off the bed I turned on the television and listened to the horrible news. The Margareta family had been murdered during the night. I shuttered, knew them well enough crossing paths at work functions, a beautiful family, as beautiful families go. Motives yet unknown, whether it was over money, love, resentment or a schizophrenic, appeared to be no theatrics, no bullets wounds, no bruising around the neck, as if they just laid down and fell asleep forever, face up arms neatly to the side, all in a row, mother, father, brother, sister. Traces of blue pebbles littered across their kitchen. I saw in the soles of my shoes.
A mysterious narrative to say the least. I got my alibi : 0