I slump in a chair,
     one hand cupping my chin lazily,
     head’s weight supported by an elbow.
My companion has mimicked the stance perfectly,
     a mirror image in a dark angel,
     our twin pairs of deep brown eyes, looking - 
Eyeing each other cautiously.
It's so early the sun hasn't risen.
There’s a dirtied plate and fork in the sink,
     and a dead body in a trash bag by the counter.