By E.F. Olsson
The news finally broke in interrupting the television show. I was disappointed – not from the show and the bad actors, but because they took so long.
The anchor anxiously warned that the police were on a city-wide lookout for a man, a potential serial killer, and everyone should stay indoors. They gave a description and broadcasted the sketch artist’s rendition from the lone witness.
Once they returned back to normal broadcasting, I went out onto the porch, lit a cigarette, stared up at the moon and smiled at how uncannily accurate that drawing was.
Perhaps I should grow a beard.