The Crime Scene
The door opens with a squeak, but stops half-way to the wall; old books and binders are blocking the entrance. No wonder, as the book shelf is cluttered with movies, paper, books, and trash. And the closet doesn't seem to have been any use either, filled half with old toys and half with clothes that are much too small to be worn. Speaking of clothes, too baskets, filled with what could only be clean clothes, cutting the room in half. In front of the baskets, a pile of used clothing sits to the height of the bed. Next to the overflowing book shelf, discarded paper lay mostly under a blanket that doesn't go with the theme of the room. The space under the bed is uncharted territory; papers to the left, clothes to the right, and in the center a glob of unknown substance. Atop the bed a fort of pillows sits surrounding a midnight blue Toshiba laptop that is nearly falling to the floor. As we start back to the door, we wonder how the victim could have lived in this chaos, but stop that thought as remember that he now resides in the morgue; having been smothered by his need to everything unorganized and unclean. And before the door shouts on this crime scene, the murder shines from between two soiled pillows.
