Lost Words and Unfinished Thoughts

I was as cold and lifeless as a corpse these days. It seemed like the only thing that kept me warm was the cheap scotch and cigarettes, but there was something about this case that had me looking at my scotch the way a fire would look at water. I was pulled from my revery by a voice like sandpaper, looking up to see the bartenders cold eyes afixed to mine.

"It's that season again, huh?"

I looked out at the rain, which only seemed to fall harder.

"If it keeps up like this, then certain folks won't have to go to the lake to hide their secrets," I replied dryly, taking a sip of my scotch.