This one I think was the start of a party gone bad murder mystery novel. I'm not sure when I wrote this and I'm also not sure how much of a parody/tongue in cheek thing I was going for.

The description of Sandy is pretty male-gaze-y. I'm thinking the intent was going to be something along the lines of a party girl comes into her own after being framed for murder in Mexico dark comedy. I think. But who knows?

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Friday to Murder Real Quick

Date of original writing: Unknown

When the sun left for the day that day, Sandy didn't think that she'd end up by the river with tears in her eyes. It was Friday and all she was gonna do was go out with her friends; drink some, eat some, see if there was any charming enough talent. It had been three-ish months since she and Leo had dissolved. Part of it was because Leo wouldn't stop making decisions for her but there was also his stupid half-assed moustache he refused to get rid of.

She was putting it behind her though. Tonight was the night. Off work early, dressed to kill. She'd spent almost two hours and a glass and a half of white wine getting ready. As she stood in front of the mirror and took herself in, she approved; she wasn't thin or petite, just beyond both. Her short hair went down to her ears and stopped, she'd dyed it a while back to an elegant cartoon white with hints of black. The black sweater she wore wrapped her tightly enough to display her distracting but not too distracting evening newscaster-variety breasts. The grey skirt and black stockings tipped with grey Converse sneakers below would let everyone know that there was indeed junk in the trunk and if need be she could move it-move it.