Cold Case

“That’s pretty much it.”




It was snowing heavily by the time the reporter left Maspeth; white sheets fell sideways across the highway, dancing and whirling in the headlights. He kept his speed low, between five and ten miles an hour, and stopped once when he felt the tires beginning to slide underneath him.

When he was in the next town over, he parked at a well-lighted Sheetz, and made a call on his cellphone.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)