The Locket

He sat at the kitchen table and fingered the chain. Remembering her. How her hair had shone in the autumn sunlight as it filtered through the trees. How her eyes had sparkled as she looked at him.

He pushed his glasses on and read the front page again, eyes slowing over the second paragraph.

‘Police have revealed that the body found in Bolehill Woods on Tuesday was naked except for a gold necklace.’

He put the locket down slowly on the paper, the chain coiling over the story.

Someone was fucking with him.

Paul was not one to fuck with.


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