Discovery

                                    

                                              


                          
Jim kills people. But he always insisted that he doesn't snore. Inching her way out of his bed, her dark hair in tangles, Lida coordinated her movements to Jim's snorts. Goose bumps prickled her skin as she gently rose to her feet. She tiptoed across the carpet to the closed door of the walk-in closet. Squeezing her eyes shut, she reached out her hand and turned the knob. It creaked open. A quake in his breathing caused her to freeze in mid-step. Had the sound reached into his sleeping mind and warned him of danger? What would he do if he discovered her snooping? She knew of Jim's methods. Lida's desire overcame her prudence.
                          
The room smelled like September, crisp with whispers of redwood. She glanced around, taking in the glass-fronted wardrobes full of his immaculate Italian suits. Then her eyes lit on a tall chest of drawers. What lay within? His heart? His underwear? His magic? The rustle of bedsheets and a soft moan almost made her turn back.

                          
The top drawer slid out smoothly. Socks. Lida stuck her hand all the way to the back and felt around. Jackpot! She pulled out a glass container. She placed it on a short dresser and pulled off the top. A small puff of opalescent powder haloed the jar then settled onto the bureau's surface.
                          
"Lida," Jim mumbled.
                          
She placed her index finger into the jar and, touching the warm substance, realized that this was something more than powder. She licked it from her finger and tasted Jim's magic.