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Personal Note:

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Poem

The office is dark, I sit at my desk.
I watch my hand shake as I pour my drink.
From the beginning the case was a mess.
That's what you get when you choose not to think...

It takes some effort reloading my gun.
Still not quite sure just how bad I've been hit.
Clues and excuses, I have neither one.
Still, all the pieces are starting to fit.

She had been lovely, her husband a cad.
Now I've a body so cold on my floor
And I'm uncertain just where it went bad.
Probably when she first walked through my door.

Soon they'll be coming to cart me away.
Cue up the credits and fade out to gray...

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