Regards

I paused at the front entrance. I should’ve left this bed and breakfast twenty minutes ago, but I was stalling. Something gnawed at my subconscious.

Then it hit me. It was the guest book. Just sitting over there on the desk, wide open and welcoming.

I stepped to the table, ignoring the trail of blood I was leaving in my wake and grabbed the available pen.

The message I left was short, benign, but my signature was a big flowing masterpiece.

I smiled. I never had a calling card before. Then again, I had never committed a quadruple homicide before.