I must be seeing things. I struggle to turn my head away from the gruesome sight of Jonus slumped over the boardroom table with a huge kitchen knife sticking out of his back. Shocked, I find my gaze slowly following the trail of blood that has pooled around his chest and is dripping onto the floor.  As I tear my gaze away from Jonus, I see that ‌I was the last of the group to arrive. Immersing myself in my current spectacular creation, I didn’t think I was so far gone that I’m now seeing things that I usually save for my written prose. And in broad daylight, too. I shook my head and urged my feet to move in the owner’s direction of the house, Mrs. White, who so graciously lets us use her home for our weekly writing critique group. She’s probably never going to allow us to grace her doorstep ever again.

I sit down with a resigned huff. The police have determined that the crime scene is fresh and they are cataloguing and taking pictures and fingerprints right now, so we are sitting, standing, or leaning on a wall in the dining room.

I can’t help looking at each one here and wondering if any of them had such a difficult time with Jonus that they took his life. 

Ray looks crestfallen. He was always chatting up Jonus, so I think they may be close. I guess I need to say were close since he’s dead. Leona looks bored. Nothing new there. If we aren’t listening to her or talking about her latest book then she’s not interested. Next to her is Evie and she’s leaning against the wall looking professional and put together as usual. I’m not jealous. I’m not envious. Nope, I’m fine. George is tipping back a chair next to, craning his head in an attempt to give Evie an engaging smile. I’m not certain what’s going to happen first. Will the chair he is so precariously balancing on only one leg going to give out or will he actually catch Evie’s eye with the his dazzlingly white teeth?

In an attempt to get the spots out of my eyes after being blinded by George’s smile, I look across from him and see that Mrs. White, our host, is looking totally lost. I think she’s used to things running smoothly and doesn’t really know what to do in this instance. Can’t say I blame her, I’m just trying to not  dwell on the picture in my head of seeing dead Jonas. Anyway, I would be totally amazed if Mrs. White had anything to do with wielding a big kitchen knife.