Shalimar

Shalimar. Mixed with a faint undertone of fear-drenched sweat. How peculiar, since we leave the air filters running in the office all night, and I had unlocked the door to come in, presumably the first in for the day. “Anybody here?”

I took a few steps down the small corridor to my office and found it trashed. Drawers open, papers scattered, chairs overturned.

I started backing out as I dialed my partner, Stacy. I was almost out the door when I heard Stacy’s phone ringing inside the office. “Stacy! Are you there?” She didn’t answer and her phone continued to ring. . . .

Please use the comments to write your first 50 words about “Shalimar.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

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