By Judi Walsh
Wash up carefully. Leave no trace of me. Forensics are good these days.
[Exhibit A: Lipstick smear on glass. Limited edition.]
Gloves on. No bare hands. No fingerprints.
[Exhibit B: Wool from cashmere glove caught in knife handle.]
Well now, it is done. Think I have been careful enough. Just a moment outside to calm the nerves.
[Exhibit C: Cigarette butt. DNA trace.]
Blue lights flash. Handcuffs snap. Bundled into car protesting innocence. Sloppy! Sloppy! So much evidence. Not from me, of course. I don’t wear lipstick, or cashmere, and I don’t smoke. But you do.
Judi Walsh writes short fiction and poetry. Her writing has been listed for awards including the Salt Flash Fiction Prize in 2012, National Flash Fiction Micro Competition in 2016, and the Bath Flash Fiction and Novella-In-Flash awards in 2017.