The Life of M

The following sees to be a classic among mystery novels, crime shows, and situations of investigation:

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, but whoever was here, they left in a hurry.”

If I got out of this tub (because I was in the middle of a bubble bath, naturally) and walked out my door, what would they say when they came looking for me and found my things left behind by the girl who didn’t leave in a hurry? 

From the front door, there would be a trail of wet footprints and traces of burst bubbles leading back into my room, disappearing at the threshold as I stepped onto the carpet but then reappearing five feet later on the tile floor of my bathroom, ending in two puddles on a white bathrug with brown trim. The bathtub is half-full of lukewarm water with two or three floating islands of stubborn bubbles that refuse to pop. 

There are books everywhere: two on the counter by the sink, one on top of a Kleenex box on the commode of the toilet, a stack of five on the stand beside the bathtub. Ditto for large cups of half-drunk water, mostly yellow, plastic ones from Rudy’s Bar-b-que. The jewelry is still in a dish next to the hairbrush and curl de-frizzing cream. It’s everyday jewelry: three rings and a pair of pearl studs. 

The key to the whole mystery, however, is in the bedroom: if the supposed missing person had, in fact, left in a hurry, there would be more books missing from the bookshelf.