The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  After the coffee, I walked the detective to the door and promised to call him if I remembered anything. In any case, we agreed that he would pick me up to go to the park where I had been found. Maybe I would remember some details at the actual place.

  I closed the door and went to my bedroom to finish the book. I was tired of the same thoughts and I didn’t have much else to think about. Even thinking about why and who beat me up became boring.

  DARK CURTAIN