In this state of dreamlike thought (I'm sure there's a better word for this), I felt myself in this 1950s street. Many things were different, but it was mostly just the culture and people. The layout of the street was exactly as it is today, and I even saw some familiar people who I know today to be really fuckin' old.
I found the newspaper vendor, and I checked out the newspaper.
MURDER, YOUNG GIRL KILLED
Desperate shooting at Echo's Hill Apartments
Dreadful ending, killer died. Evidently suicide.
After reading the article, I started to get a much better idea of what the fuck happened. Apparently, there was a woman named Lisa and a man called Callum, and they were going out, right? But Callum turned to things like crack and gambling, and Lisa couldn't stand it so she arranged to break up with him that night. But Callum pulled a gun on her, and then when a witness came because of the gunfire, he tried to help but Callum turned the weapon on himself.
They found a switchblade on Lisa, and a suicide letter on Callum saying he'd sooner kill himself than live with losing her. So yeah, this was a strange case, and I mean, it sounds straightforward but what was that about a switchblade and stuff?
I dunno. I came out of my dreamlike state later and, again, asked my friend to schedule me another appointment for tomorrow.
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