“Begging for the rain to come because the crops have dried up. Now that it’s come, it doesn’t seem to stop. Crops are drowning and we can’t tend to them. Nights are short and the days are longer.” …This novel sucks. The imbecile barista can’t get my drink right, how do you fail at pouring a black coffee with no room, besides forgetting how to keep pouring to the brim. I’ve spent many nights here for him to finally grasp that concept, maybe I should stop putting Starbursts into his tip jar. My new case has me running around in circles because she doesn’t understand that our open disclosure aids heavily in solving her case. The only case here is her being a basketcase. She gives me paradoxical info to work with and then asks me if the case has been closed every 20 minutes via text. I doubt she’d believe me if I told her she’d be the first person I told if I’ve made a break.

Waiting outside a shady motel sipping cheap coffee out of a dirty mug, I wait for the cheating husband to rear his head like a raccoon rummaging through your garbage. The only thing I’ve seen is how little people care in manners of conspicuousness. Men in suits walking and laughing with women wearing skirts shorter than the dollar bills sticking out of them, and out of material you see an abundance of in Halloween shops. the cheap shiny rubbery kind. I’m out cigarettes. I hate bumming smokes from people, it makes me feel like I’m still in highschool waiting for someone who looks at least 21 outside of a liquor store. Speaking of, there’s one at the corner.

On my way out, I saw the fucker, and he looked ready to fuck her. They were laughing and hugging like cliches, while I snuck back into the patio of the diner. I can’t quite make out the woman’s face, but I knew that head. I’ve always had a sort of skill about recognizing people by the backs of their heads, even if I haven’t seen the person in years. Even a toddler. I was 99.9% certain that was the head of the woman who hired me. That schizophrenic bitch, cheating on me with her own husband. I went to the liquor store to buy cigarettes.

1 Comment

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One response to “pwe1a

  1. a lover i don’t have to love, brand new skin in old dirty clothing

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