The Next One Hundred Words

... the other a red satin swathed woman.

The gentleman, a stiff suited fellow in creased slacks, red razor nick showing a recently shaven jaw line, reclined postmortem in a straightbacked chair. His lady friend slumped pitifully off the side of the rumpled bed, her many skirts petalling across pale legs.

On a first look over, by the nice chap downstairs who was willing to claim witness, several items were found in the posession of the two guests. Rummaging through the gentleman's pockets produced a soiled, monogrammed handkerchief, two tickets for the 9 a.m. Penn express, and the razor presumed to have...

The End

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