Murder In Paradise

Lindsey and Kirsten

I walked into the bathroom in my boxers. The light was already on from yesterday. I shielded my eyes for a moment, letting them adjust from the darkness in my bedroom. A yawn escaped me even though I had gotten ten hours of sleep. I let my boxers fall to the floor and yanked open the linen closet. A body fell to my feet. My back hit the wall. I jumped away. I ran from the bathroom, half tripping over the clothes strewn all over my floor, as I groped for my cell phone in the dark.
My eyes burned as I scrolled through my messages. When I found Megan, my producer’s contact, I jabbed the call button and put the phone to my ear.
“You’re up early,” she said.
“There’s a dead body in my bathroom,” I said, barely letting her finish the sentence. SIlence on the other end. “Megan?”
“Shit,” she said. “Did you call the police?”
“No, uh, I thought you’d want to know first.” It sounded like she adjusted herself in a creaky chair.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, good call. Don’t move, don’t touch anything, don’t breathe.”
“Ok,” I said. Silence. “Megan?” I glanced at the phone screen and saw my home wallpaper. Rude. I set my phone back down on my bed.
Do nothing
Look at body