Spread across David’s coffee table, several papers were scattered, including his laptop, phone and gun. The faint smell of lemon lingered in the air, a scent that reminded him of the late Rick Sanchez house. Rick had been obsessed with Pine-Sol like it was a geriatric version of crack cocaine. Everything, including the hardwood floors, had been doused in the stuff. David had spent many of his afternoons after school using the hallway downstairs in the quiet home as a Slip N Slide.
Rick had always kept everything neat and clean, to the point that it was borderline disturbing, which explained why David, as an adult, couldn’t stand things to be displaced or messy. Everything had to be in order and have a purpose.
And what was resting on his coffee table definitely was not a part of the plan—of any plan.
David took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, shit on a shitter.”
