Cold Case

I grab a carrot from the crisper drawer in the fridge, some coal from the bag next to the grill, and a couple twigs that have fallen. Fresh snow coats the front lawn, shining in the bright winter sun. I roll and roll and roll, making one, two, three balls. Stacking them one by one on top of each other, so high that I have to stand on the tips of my winter boots to come face to face with you. I pierce my fingers into your head where eyes should be, creating fresh sockets. I press two round chunks of coal into them, imagining that the dull crunching sound from the snow is actually a fleshy squelch as I fill the gaping craters with carbon.

I jab the sharpened twigs into your frozen torso, twisting them deeper and deeper until the stick. Two arms, fixed in place.

My mother watches from the living room window, admiring her child playing in the winter snow, making his first snowman. Clad in the soft winter coat she got for me on sale.

I bring my hand up… and down, plunging the carrot into your cranium. Creating a synthetic nose for my new friend through which you cannot breathe.

Running inside I take Mother’s nicest scarf from the tippy top of the hat stand, bringing it outside for you in case you get too cold. Wrapping it around your neck tight. Enough to stay put. Not quite enough to decapitate you.

A cap from Father, thank goodness he left it out on the bedside table. Made of fine wool, it’s sure to keep you warm for weeks to come. I press it deep into your skull, creating dents to hold it fast.

My father comes outside to witness what I’ve done. He takes back his hat.

I watch from my bedroom window for days as the pristine snow melts in the heat of the sun and your flesh droops to the ground, becoming a puddle where you once stood tall. I take a kitchen towel and sop up the juices, discarding the evidence in the neighbor’s trash can.

Has anyone caught on? Am I in the clear?

A deer takes your nose for a midnight snack, a raccoon drags away your arms. The scarf is collected by my mother, angry that I soaked her perfectly good clothes.

Spring comes. No one’s found the body.