Let me see...Mr. George Jefferson stopped by this morning for treatment. Major bruising and cuts. Refused to answer questions pertaining to injuries. Left before actual treatment. A similiar situation with a Mr. Ford...
Well I imagine he would be in a hurry to leave the clinic when they ask so many penetrating questions in this cloister of a city. In fact, in the bulk of the patient records there are few who stay more than one night. Of course it makes for a harder investigation when every single person acts suspiciously.
"Oh-Um...officer Seebach?"
"Ah, forgive me, this is Seebach."
"Um, yes. Thank you for coming in. It's always good to know you are helping out in hand with the clinic."
Even if I had something to do today, at Ms. Evans invitation, all the red markings on my calendar had magically disappeared. Even if she requested we meet on the 29th of February, I would still be there. Who cares about something as trivial as a leap year? It is always a profitable source of information at the free clinic. Injuries tell secrets.
"Well please continue to report in officer, thank you very much."
"Ah. Please turn the light out as you leave."
"Aren't you reading--? Alright."
I toyed with the golden badge on my shirt as I hunched over a box of documents. The small closet was a bit more spacious than the room in my apartment. Gratefully many people don't see what's important, just the uniform. Of course that is as good a factor as bad in a place like this. The name on my uniform read "Barnheart." Technically it was Brone's uniform which he uses on certain occasions, but thats why I took his identification for alteration earlier.
Ring Ring.
A normal ringtone for my normal role-playing.
"This is Seebach."
"Michael, what the hell. Give me my ID."
"It's purpose has not reached fulfillment, I would like to use it at least once."
"I need it much more than you idiot. Don't think you can trade me a hundred bucks for it."
"You were asked for identification? Really?"
"Unbelievable huh? but that's not important, of course I'm calling you for a reason. So listen carefully, because I'm serious about it."
You called all of a sudden just to say you're serious? After such an ambiguous sentence, my wits were at an end as to guessing just what he was trying to say. Listening carefully it did seem he had a real reason for calling me rather than to complain. This could be a critical situation.
"Perhaps...I shall rendevouz with you later, time and place shall depend on the developing situation."
I thought I would be finishing up around here but it seems the grandson of that cookie woman has just arrived.
"G-g-g-g--!"
Ghosts? Grandma? Speaking of which, Mrs. Pearl seems to be holding a klondike bar. Should I ask her for it-No, she's already seen me before, I can't ruin this relationship I hold at the hospital. I should be meeting with Brone shortly, before the scene dissolves to nothing. While i'm walking, let us organize Alexander's Andromeda Strain-induced ramblings. Not to say it has something to do with clotting.
Perhaps Mr. Jefferson. Strangely enough, he is the only person whom I can recall with a "G" in his name. Ah, well. Out into the rainy streets.
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Sugar
Justice...or...
Right Round
Sugar
About Me
- Daniel Cross
- A person with horns like a cow. I got questions, you don't have the answer.
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Brone Barnheart Apt. 223
The sun was beaming down; it was a beautiful day outside. I sighed. I was looking out my window at the graveyard. I didn’t see her, but I knew she would be waiting there. I got my stuff and headed toward the elevator.
“Brone,” I head a muffled voice. I paused at door 226.
“Don’t go” …I kept walking. Outside I headed toward the flower shop. The taxidermist was as perky as ever.
“Ok, this is a one time special offer; I have, just for you…a Chinchilla!” I had to stop. “Aren’t those only native to South America?”
“…it’s your lucky day!”
“I hope so,” I said and moved on. An ambulance passed me by, sirens blaring. The flower shop door creaked as I opened it. A girl at the counter looked up.
“I need a bouquet of red roses.” I said.
“Ok,” she said and started to pick out roses one by one. After she had enough she started tying them together with a string.
“Wait, can I have then wrapped in plain white paper, please?”
“Ok,” I paid and left with my bouquet. I didn’t want to emotionally scar the flower girl, so I went into the laundry mat. It was the same guy from before, he sneered.
“I have the right to refuse service to anyone.” He said. I walked to a dryer out of view of the windows, and carefully unwrapped the bouquet.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he said.
“Yeah, I heard you.” I pulled out my gun. “You also have the right to remain silent.” He froze, I sighed. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna shoot you.” I carefully wrapped the roses around my hand, and gun. I tied it back together using my free hand and teeth. I cradled the bouquet and left. He was still frozen.
I went to the graveyard. At the entrance I smelled it again. That scent that has been haunting me all my life...her. There in the graveyard I saw her, the sun beaming down casting half of her face into shadow. She was not smiling. She pulled the pistol out of her pocket and pointed it right at my chest. She came closer.
“It was sunny that day as well...” she said.
“So you didn't come because of the sun?” I said
“I was supposed to kill you, it was all set up. If I had…I would have been free.”
“So why didn't you? You choose to be hunted. Why?”
“Why did you love me?” She said. She lowered her gun and embraced me; I pointed the bouquet at her side.
“Let's just go away somewhere. Escape, vanish, go somewhere where there’s no one else... Just the two of us...” My eyes became cloudy with tears. Click, that unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Her eyes widened.
“I wish I could bend my love to hate you,” I said.
I didn’t even hear the shot. I just felt her go limp. She started to fall backwards.
I caught her and lowered her to the ground.
“Roses? For me?” The life in her eyes faded, she was gone.
I took the gun and left the roses across her chest. I light a cigarette, stared
up at the perfect blue sky, and cried.
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