where the writers are
Day In The Life

He’d come fairly quickly to the realization that, despite the agency’s best efforts, most of his clients would remain reclusive, either reluctant or outright refusing to venture out, and often unwilling or unable to answer even the most tentative knock. One time he visited, concerned at the lack of response after three days calling, tried the door and, surprised to find it unlocked, entered.

Despite the previous night’s rain and the morning’s gusts and bluster, the apartment’s single window was opened wide. He spotted the few scattered feathers on the floor first, then noted the two avian corpses on the grimy sill.

He’d been with the agency a while, and thought he was prepared for almost anything. He stepped closer, gazed out the window briefly, hopefully, then forced himself to look down into the alley.