Jones stared at the pale figure and twisted sheets.
‘She can’t be more than eighteen. A bottle of vodka and fifty paracetamol. Jesus.’
‘Boss. You need to see this.’
‘What is it, sergeant?’
‘A checked list. Is she weird? Is she white? Is she promised to the night? And her head has no room? They’re lyrics from a Pixies song.’
‘You’re telling me she killed herself because of a Pixies song?’
‘No, because her head had no room. It was all too much for her.’
‘There’re better ways to empty a head. Though it requires a different type of pixie.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.