I wanted my proximity to communicate how sorry I was. Yes, I’d had the unspoken conversation with her over and over again in my head, but I felt like I actually needed to be in the same room as her once again. It oddly made me feel like she might hear me, forgive me. Yet, I didn’t know if it was okay. Should a killer attend the funeral of the person they murdered? Was it really the done thing?
“I hope you have found your passage across the Styx, Mr. Steffens. If not, well…” I trail off, placing drachma in his palm. “Tell that greedy Charon I’ll pay your fare.” As my fingers graze his skin, I’m suddenly blinded by a flash of light as a vision takes over…
I let out a loud yelp, stumbling backwards. I’m sprayed with coffee grounds and water as my back slams into the island cabinet. Propped up against my coffee machine is my ancient Greek tragic mask. It stares back at me with its large void eyes and gaping mouth twisted into a permanent frown.
