I knew she was dead by the way her dress clung to her body in a new darkened rouge. Hewie Lewis and the News blasted from the below and I knew it was about time that I got back to the party. Casualties were just another occurrence in society here, like an election or a high school graduation. Only the lucky ones were picked to be in the spot light, but the spot light always faded by the end of the night. It was only the stories, the rumors, and the photographs that stayed for a short eternity, and even those things only left a beige like stain on the white carpet of humanity.
I chewed a bit at my index fingernail, feeling a bit of grit hit the tip of my teeth. The room was beginning to smell a bit foul. I walked over to the window on the far south side of the room and opened the window. The blood was staining the blue carpet a dark shade of purple, that remarkably matched the silk curtains that were now waving slightly to the breeze that was hissing in. I picked up the cream telephone, that oddly enough still had a chord connected from the receiver to the dialer and the dialer connected to the hole in the wall. I dialed the three numbers for emergency, which wasn't 911 as you always see on crappy cable movies, but 473. The called local and got things done quicker other than calling a line that would more likely than not be busy and not helpful. The quicker the better, too. It's going to take forever to get that stain out of the carpet.