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tcepsaPlease note that the following is a dramatization.
I sigh and lean back in my chair for the umpteenth time tonight. I keep looking for answers, but tonight they're sulking in the shadows of my mind the way the roaches scurry for cover when I turn on the light in my apartment. Or my office. Or open my car door. Gotta focus. I shake my head to clear it. Big mistake; now it's so clear it's empty. Nothing. Like my glass. I grab it and head for the fountain down the hall, letting the water run a minute or two in the hopes that it'll be marginally cold by the time I fill up. Futile as always. Like this search. I take my tepid water and walk back to my desk, risking a tentative sip as I sit down. I grimace at the taste, but manage not to cough; seems my cold is finally subsiding a bit. First good thing that's happened tonight.
I light a stick of incense that I got off some joker in Chinatown who promised me it would bring "great mental clarity." Yeah right. It smells okay, though, so I let it burn and watch the smoke twine through the still air and dance out across the ceiling. I lean back again and watch the neon glow from the street outside get cut into bars by my blinds. A cage of horizontal light, to complement the cage of darkness locked around my brain. I run my fingers through my hair and reach to take another sip of water, but the sound of my office door opening distracts me and I knock over the glass. Cursing, I try to find something to soak up the water as it oozes its way into my sparse notes. I don't know where my towel is. I find a spare shirt that I keep around for cases when I have to spend a night or two at the office and begin to blot ineffectually at the now-soaked papers. Not that there's anything worth saving.
"Catch you at a bad time?"
I realize who's just walked in and surrender my losing battle to the flood. It doesn't make any difference, now that she's here. My partner. My former partner, I should say. We were a team for about two years. Then I took this case. It went well at the beginning. The clues seemed to lead to a pretty clear conclusion. But then I stumbled across some stuff from my own past, and it led to a rift between us. When you can't trust your own partner, well, things just don't work the same between you anymore. I bare my teeth in what I hope is a convincingly nonchalant smile.
"Nah, just doing a bit of chromatography. The boys down in forensics are pretty busy these days, you know..."
"Right. Mind if I come in?"
"Make yourself at home," I say, as she settles into the chair across from me, "Incense? Guaranteed to clear your mind."
She sniffs the air, "If that's the reason you're not getting anywhere with this, I'll pass. I wouldn't be surprised. It reeks."
"Is that what you're here for, to badger me? Because if that's so, you're certainly not helping the investigation."
"Oh don't worry, I won't take much of your valuable," she glances pointedly at my desk, "lab time. But there are some other things you need to look into regarding this case."
Stung, I settle back to listen. A chance of finding new leads seems decidedly better than blow-drying the dead-end ones.
To be Continued
I sigh and lean back in my chair for the umpteenth time tonight. I keep looking for answers, but tonight they're sulking in the shadows of my mind the way the roaches scurry for cover when I turn on the light in my apartment. Or my office. Or open my car door. Gotta focus. I shake my head to clear it. Big mistake; now it's so clear it's empty. Nothing. Like my glass. I grab it and head for the fountain down the hall, letting the water run a minute or two in the hopes that it'll be marginally cold by the time I fill up. Futile as always. Like this search. I take my tepid water and walk back to my desk, risking a tentative sip as I sit down. I grimace at the taste, but manage not to cough; seems my cold is finally subsiding a bit. First good thing that's happened tonight.
I light a stick of incense that I got off some joker in Chinatown who promised me it would bring "great mental clarity." Yeah right. It smells okay, though, so I let it burn and watch the smoke twine through the still air and dance out across the ceiling. I lean back again and watch the neon glow from the street outside get cut into bars by my blinds. A cage of horizontal light, to complement the cage of darkness locked around my brain. I run my fingers through my hair and reach to take another sip of water, but the sound of my office door opening distracts me and I knock over the glass. Cursing, I try to find something to soak up the water as it oozes its way into my sparse notes. I don't know where my towel is. I find a spare shirt that I keep around for cases when I have to spend a night or two at the office and begin to blot ineffectually at the now-soaked papers. Not that there's anything worth saving.
"Catch you at a bad time?"
I realize who's just walked in and surrender my losing battle to the flood. It doesn't make any difference, now that she's here. My partner. My former partner, I should say. We were a team for about two years. Then I took this case. It went well at the beginning. The clues seemed to lead to a pretty clear conclusion. But then I stumbled across some stuff from my own past, and it led to a rift between us. When you can't trust your own partner, well, things just don't work the same between you anymore. I bare my teeth in what I hope is a convincingly nonchalant smile.
"Nah, just doing a bit of chromatography. The boys down in forensics are pretty busy these days, you know..."
"Right. Mind if I come in?"
"Make yourself at home," I say, as she settles into the chair across from me, "Incense? Guaranteed to clear your mind."
She sniffs the air, "If that's the reason you're not getting anywhere with this, I'll pass. I wouldn't be surprised. It reeks."
"Is that what you're here for, to badger me? Because if that's so, you're certainly not helping the investigation."
"Oh don't worry, I won't take much of your valuable," she glances pointedly at my desk, "lab time. But there are some other things you need to look into regarding this case."
Stung, I settle back to listen. A chance of finding new leads seems decidedly better than blow-drying the dead-end ones.
To be Continued
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-12 12:55 pm (UTC)Personally I would rework the dialog, it lacks the personality that your descriptions have.
blow-drying the dead-end ones? Unless your lab cover is a salon, I don't suggest using this metaphor. However, if you are attached to it I suggest making the whole line related to hair: A chance of straightening out a new lead seems decidedly better than blow-drying the dead-end ones. My suggestion, make a file of sentences that you wrote that you think are really cool, but don't quite fit into the story you wrote them for. You can use them later or just force friends to read them....
no subject
Date: 2005-05-12 02:27 pm (UTC)The sentence you commented on, however, wasn't a metaphor. I'd rather listen to what she's got to say in hopes of finding out new information instead of trying to salvage my soaked notes, which she and I both know were worthless even before I spilled water all over them.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-13 10:18 am (UTC)I usually screw my readers, but that's not everyone's style