The Final Body

Once the police left with the final body, the reporters scattered their separate ways, much like vultures after a dinner party. I headed to my favorite diner, hoping some scalding coffee and room temperature pie would scrub away my lingering sense of insignificance.

Denizens of a past-its-prime diner also tend to be past-their-prime, but on this night, the man staring at me from across the booth reminded me of an aging but still dangerous predator, albeit one missing his front teeth.

Staring back at him, I had no way of knowing I was about to be embraced by eternal irrelevance.