“It’s shimmering,” she says, her voice low. “Like the hotel itself isn’t all here at once, all at the same time.” + “Blood drips down the elevator doors and pools over the tile floor of the lobby. The doors open, and it’s raining blood, staining the carpet and mirrored walls inside the elevator car.”
Right. I spread the newspapers across the desk in front of me and scan the headlines, looking for anything which mentions an attack on a woman, discarding those that don’t seem to have anything useful in them. I’m left with a stack that mention, among other attacks, the two that I witnessed this week, though no others mention unusual blades as these ones do. I begin to flick through each of them, pausing every now and then to make notes. After about twenty minutes I have a full page and fingers covered in newsprint.
Oh, and the beginnings of a conspiracy theory.