Chapter OneMature

It all started on a Sunday morning. There was a thin layer of fog stretched out over the city, and the typical sounds of the busy highways were echoing in my head. I rubbed my temple irritably as I poured myself a cup of coffee. I collapsed into a chair at the dinner table and put the cup of coffee to my lips. The hot liquid burned my tongue as I drank it. I gulped and set the cup down on the dining table. My tongue stung a little bit, and I immediately wished I had given the coffee a moment to cool.

I sighed as the telephone rang. I stood and strode over to my desk, which was located in the living room. To the left of my desk was a lamp, that happened to be on as I picked up the phone. I glanced at it before I put the phone to my ear, remembering how badly I had slept the night before.

"Angel," I said casually, trying to avoid sounding tired and lazy (which I was).

"Marc," a familiar voice said. "The boss call you yet?"

"Nah. Why?" I asked. 

For a moment, there was no reply. 

"Herman," I said.

"Wha---yeah?" he responded, obviously distracted.

"Where are you, man?"

"Down at a crime scene," he said slowly. "Pretty bloody one, too."

My eyes widened. "Wait---what? You're where?"

"At a crime scene, Marc. The boss should have called you two hours ago to call you over. I dunno why he didn't."

It was then that I remembered. I had slept in that morning. Usually, the phone would have woken me up, but I distinctively remembered knocking something over when I had sprawled into bed the previous night. Maybe I had disconnected the phone line.

"Look I gotta go man," Herman said quickly. "The officers are getting cranky."

"Wait," I snapped. "Give me the address, I'll be right there."

Without hesitance, he gave it to me. I jotted it down in my memory.

"Alright, gotta go now. Get here quick, forensics wants to get started."

I hung up the phone and quickly wrote down the address that he had given me on a piece of paper. I slipped the note in my front coat pocket and then proceeded to return to the dining table. I grabbed the cup of coffee and threw it in the sink. I walked towards the front door, threw on my hat to cover my bad hair, and opened the door.

Then I remembered.

I turned and dashed back into the living room. Grabbing a piece of paper off of the desk, I speedily and messily wrote a note to Lisa (my daughter) telling her where I was going and when I'd be back. With a sigh, I placed the note at the foot of the dining table.

I fast-walked down to the front door once again. The door was still open. I walked outside and shut the door loudly behind me. I approached my car and climbed in. I pulled the address out of my coat and looked at it. I knew the area. It was only a few miles away.

I backed out of the driveway and started down the road.  

The End

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