The Unreliable Truth

From the moment he put the key in the lock he knew. The sound was wrong. Too much echo. He pushed the door open without going through. The doorway framed an empty apartment. A harsh light pierced the dirty windows. Some pieces of paper, half an extension cord (the female end), some old rags and a broken chair were all that were left. He didn't bother to close the door as he stepped into the room. His first thought was, "Maybe I should have called and said I wasn't going to be home last night."
Go to:
Flightless Hummingbird:  A Pseudo-Periodical