Melissa Phillips was a skinny, frail-looking blonde girl with cute freckles dotting her cheeks and soft blue eyes.  She fancied herself to be an actress, but she had been told repeatedly that she was too “cute” to be considered for roles that required “sexy”.  So in order to pay the bills, she had gotten a rather cushy job as a housekeeper for a shut-in self-imposed writer-type.  He was probably insane, but no more than she considered herself to be, and that was far outweighed by the flexibility the job could provide her.

Plus, one of her favorite parts of the job was helping her boss, the technophobe, fax his stories to his publisher.  Melissa had great satisfaction from knowing that she was the first person outside of Byron to read his stories, and as such, as she fed the pages in the fax machine she wore a broad grin across her face.

But this latest story revealed her smile was short lived and a look of confusion settled in its place.  She started the next page through before beginning to dig in her purse.  She pulled out an envelope that had obviously been opened and pulled out a letter from her sister in Minnesota.  Her sister had been concerned about a murder that had happened to her neighbor recently and had enclosed a snippet from the paper concerning it.   When she consulted the article, she found the name of the murdered woman matched the name of the character in Byron’s latest book.  She found it odd that the character’s death also matched the description in the paper.

But she ultimately shrugged it off as her boss always seemed to be so up on current events as she waited for the confirmation page to be faxed back to her.


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