I have dug.

I have bored.

I have burrowed and mined, excavated and quarried through every messy scrap of the car accident searching for meaty bits to attach to my Cozy.

I have found one.

One.

A juicy emotional appendage to lop onto my sleuth.

How morbid of me.

Bottom line: Sometimes you must be to your story what Dr. Frankenstein was to his monster. Writing, alas, is not for the squeamish.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe