Too close and [becoming] too familiar

Murder. A nasty business. And it stinks too.

I was okay every morning dodging around a sack of guts (heads?). But the addition of a dead calf was just one putrefying thing too many. So I had to alter my run and change roads.

I felt pretty damn good the last couple of days. A new route. New scenery.

Then there was this dead guy this morning who had been rather unceremoniously dumped off the side of the road.

It was 10:30 am and I was a quarter of the way into my run. I probably wouldn’t have even seen the body if it hadn’t been for the three cops.

I thought, ‘Three cops. What?’ And then I looked a little further to see the dead guy who had been left rather carelessly a couple of feet down the bank, slightly off the road, on the edge of the canal.

The cops were on the other side of the 20 foot wide canal. I pretended I didn’t see them and kept running. On the way back I ignored them again.

It seemed to work. I didn’t get a frightened angry cop with his automatic weapon pointed at me this time.

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