Cold Case

It happened thirty years ago today, and I’m still not over it, nor is the case closed.

I came home that October afternoon to find the house very cold, in schambels and my parents dead. It’s not something a thirteen year old should ever see.

The police investigated, but never came up with any leads. After a year, the case went cold. I called a privote investigator. He was just as baffled.

I went to the empty lot where the house was to lay flowers. Our old house was standing.

I walked up and knocked on the door. A lady answered. She looked like my mother.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“How long have you lived here?”

“My husband and I have been here seven years.”

She turned and picked up a little boy. I asked what the boy’s name was.

“Jimmy,” she pinched his cheek.

I thanked her for her time and left.

I sat in the car a while to process what I just saw. But it was nice seeing my mother again.

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