Exitus

A cumulus cloud in the sky above Love Street, which was acting as a stage curtain for the sun, lifted causing a spotlight of cold white light to shoot through the bathroom window and bounce off the tiles in search of a drama to illuminate. It settled on Rik Wallace’s swollen purple face. His head was wedged between the toilet bowl and the wall. The blood had drained from his elevated feet resting on the edge of the bathtub. The toilet seat had broken free and lay under his head on the floor. The light pried his eyes open.