I LIFTED THE GLASS OF RED TO MY MOUTH. Empty. I was still gazing out the window. Searching in my memory for that tiny detail that I was missing so much for the break-through in this obscure case.
Someone took the wine glass out of my hand and replaced it with a filled one. I noticed this from the weight of it. Did hardly pay attention. Maybe it was one of the waiters... I mumbled a thanks.
But I was completely lost in the pictures that were slideshowing in my head. I have seen the scenes of the crimes in person, I've viewed the pictures taken there and at the autopsy a hundred times. They were all encoded and stored in my brain. I could just take them out of my memory and examine them.
All of a sudden I felt that someone is watching me. My eyes focused back into reality and there she was, my ballerina mistress. Sitting cross legged in the airmchair in front of me. Looking somewhat interested. With a half-smile.
I almost gave a laugh. She must have been the one to swap my wine. Fuck.
"That's quite a way to say thank you" she sais.
She got me by surprise, then I realised that I said 'fuck' out loud. Fortunately her smile didn't disappear.
"That's a fuck I give my thoughts, thank you for the wine" was my reply. I took advantage of her sitting in front of me and tried to quickly explore her physique. My mind was already banging her in the antique, comfy, brown leather armchair.
"My name is not too important" comes the out of context reply. "I've noticed you staring at me like this earlier as well, detective."
Fuck the media. Since this whole rampage started I'm being shown too much on the screen and in newspapers. They couldn't get anything about the killer but they managed to dredge all about me. I see the lunatic I'm chasing guffawing, he surely has a room where the wall is pinned with articles of me. Maybe - surely - even some paparazzi shots he took here and there at crime scenes. Well, everybody knew everything about me, even my school grades. Fuck this. I'll get your ass.
"You seem a bit too quiet, detective" she answers to my silence.
She is a hell of a desirable girl. I should simply use my sudden fame and get her out of here. Out of this world, forgetting anything, just merging myself into her.
"Well nameless miss, I'm leaving and if you want you can come with me. I'll take the glass of wine and will walk down to the stairs at the river. I'll just sit there and let the water flow wash my thoughts. Or maybe let you tattle for me."
"It's not too exemplary from you to swipe out that wine glass from here."
Is this the time of equivocation? Can't she give a proper answer? Anyway, I stood up. Noded to her and walked towards the exit. From the corner of my eye I've seen her standing up, and heard her high heels patter on the marble floor as she followed me.
To be continued...
Read the one1 here!
Someone took the wine glass out of my hand and replaced it with a filled one. I noticed this from the weight of it. Did hardly pay attention. Maybe it was one of the waiters... I mumbled a thanks.
But I was completely lost in the pictures that were slideshowing in my head. I have seen the scenes of the crimes in person, I've viewed the pictures taken there and at the autopsy a hundred times. They were all encoded and stored in my brain. I could just take them out of my memory and examine them.
All of a sudden I felt that someone is watching me. My eyes focused back into reality and there she was, my ballerina mistress. Sitting cross legged in the airmchair in front of me. Looking somewhat interested. With a half-smile.
I almost gave a laugh. She must have been the one to swap my wine. Fuck.
"That's quite a way to say thank you" she sais.
She got me by surprise, then I realised that I said 'fuck' out loud. Fortunately her smile didn't disappear.
"That's a fuck I give my thoughts, thank you for the wine" was my reply. I took advantage of her sitting in front of me and tried to quickly explore her physique. My mind was already banging her in the antique, comfy, brown leather armchair.
"My name is not too important" comes the out of context reply. "I've noticed you staring at me like this earlier as well, detective."
Fuck the media. Since this whole rampage started I'm being shown too much on the screen and in newspapers. They couldn't get anything about the killer but they managed to dredge all about me. I see the lunatic I'm chasing guffawing, he surely has a room where the wall is pinned with articles of me. Maybe - surely - even some paparazzi shots he took here and there at crime scenes. Well, everybody knew everything about me, even my school grades. Fuck this. I'll get your ass.
"You seem a bit too quiet, detective" she answers to my silence.
She is a hell of a desirable girl. I should simply use my sudden fame and get her out of here. Out of this world, forgetting anything, just merging myself into her.
"Well nameless miss, I'm leaving and if you want you can come with me. I'll take the glass of wine and will walk down to the stairs at the river. I'll just sit there and let the water flow wash my thoughts. Or maybe let you tattle for me."
"It's not too exemplary from you to swipe out that wine glass from here."
Is this the time of equivocation? Can't she give a proper answer? Anyway, I stood up. Noded to her and walked towards the exit. From the corner of my eye I've seen her standing up, and heard her high heels patter on the marble floor as she followed me.
To be continued...
Read the one1 here!
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