Exhale. Tom stares into the sky trying to peer through the thick cloud of relief. Today is sunny, not like most days in the big apple lately. Not that the weather isn't good, it's just the people. Tom looks back down at his cigarette. Almost out of cake.
Tom sets his thoughts of his cigarette aside for a moment to examine the park around him. Central Park is the perfect place for a murder. Murder number three for the "marinara murderer". The papers have got a hold of the last case and decided to give him the title because of the gruesome crime scene left in that dreadful kitchen. Tom didn't appreciate the title seeing as how he liked marinara sauce almost as much as he loved his chocolate cake.
In front of him were again the Area 51 brigade. The stunning effect of the last crime scene seems to have washed away from everyone's mind. It's almost if the "marinara murderer" was attempting more then a physical murder, but a murder of the mind. Maybe his overall goal was to desensitize everyone and make them as sick as him. Exhale.
That last hit was it. Time to wash over the crime scene and see what they've got. Tom looked up at the sky one more time. Clear skies. The bright sun revealed the crime scene for what it really was; this side of the big apple was bright red.
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