Language
Episode 7 of the June Murders
Sally picked up the mail from behind the door. As the car had taken her through the winding streets back to Chelsea, she had dreaded entering the flat alone. It would all feel so final, and so different from the place she had left only hours before.
She put the mail on a table in the hallway. These would be messages sent before June was killed; their contents largely rendered irrelevant. Tomorrow, she would have to start on the emails and the phone messages. No doubt, the company that managed June’s social media accounts would want some guidelines. But that too could wait. It was already 2 a.m. and the police were arriving at 10. The detective had said they both needed sleep, and she agreed.
She undressed and showered. She had a nightly routine and silently she prayed that it would help her get ready for sleep. She ignored the reality that June had left her clothes piled on the chair in one corner. She just got into the bed they shared. It was cold and empty; full of emptiness in a way she had never know before.
They had been an odd couple, although “couple” was maybe the wrong term. She remembered when June had first kissed her. She had been surprised. June had stroked her face and said, “You are a good person, Sally, and I need good people in my life. Just be with me.” And that was that.
