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Catch Zen Up [narrative]
Charlie wasn't exactly angry, but he wasn't happy either. There had been a woman with a large gun who had jumped off a building with said gun. He should have shot her; he should have taken her down before she could have gotten away, but he didn't want to hurt anyone. He only wanted to hurt certain someones, and now that crazy woman was on his hurt list. He supposed she might have had a good reason for carrying such a weapon around with her; he didn't think so.
As he walked into the office he shared with Jennifer Government, he stopped and stared. The fish. The fish was not his fish; not the fish he remembered, but he supposed it was his fish as it was on his desk. What had happened to his fish that was no longer his fish, or was it still his fish even if it wasn't in the bowl on his desk? Then again, could this really be his fish just because it was on his desk? Maybe it was Jennifer's fish, and his fish was no longer around, but still his fish. Could his fish be gone and still be the fish on his desk? The questions went on and on as he stood in the door way. Finally he just shrugged and got an apple and a bottle of water from the fridge.
He settled with the books that were beside the fish. They were all written by the same person, and once he peeked inside, he realized they were all about the same person. They were the books that Jennifer had promised to get him. Hannibal Lecter was probably an interesting read, or would have been had he not been a cop who'd spent a "few" years in prison.
The detective's mind shifted from the fish and books and cannibal to the woman he'd kissed. His brows furrowed as he thought of her. She had tasted like pomegranate. He didn't know why, but she had. He bit into the apple and smiled. Well, that certainly tasted like an apple, a very good apple. Apples were good. Now who had that woman been? Why had she been so close to the crime scene? And why had he kissed her like that? It had almost felt as if he were kissing his wife; not that he thought she was his wife, but it was that strange rush of love. He'd kissed other women since he'd gotten out of prison, but there was nothing like kissing his wife. Okay, his ex-wife, but she'd always in some way be his wife.
Taking another bite of apple, Charlie shifted in his seat; it was a nice seat, cushy, better than what he'd had before in the precinct. Yet, it was missing something. Reese. It was missing Reese. Ted was here, but Tidwell and Reese were not. He chewed thoughtfully on the apple bite, yet Government could be Reese. No, Government couldn't be Reese, only Reese could be Reese, unless she wasn't Reese.
He sat up and looked at the folded piece of paper that was on the stack of mail. He didn't remember getting mail at work before. With a shrug, he pulled out a pen and nudged the paper open. Charlie lifted the apple to his lips for another bite, but stopped. Anthrax and diphtheria - probably a hoax, look at the letters, but... Where was Government? They had more than one job to do. Thinking back on the woman with the gun, he was going to need a bigger gun.
As he walked into the office he shared with Jennifer Government, he stopped and stared. The fish. The fish was not his fish; not the fish he remembered, but he supposed it was his fish as it was on his desk. What had happened to his fish that was no longer his fish, or was it still his fish even if it wasn't in the bowl on his desk? Then again, could this really be his fish just because it was on his desk? Maybe it was Jennifer's fish, and his fish was no longer around, but still his fish. Could his fish be gone and still be the fish on his desk? The questions went on and on as he stood in the door way. Finally he just shrugged and got an apple and a bottle of water from the fridge.
He settled with the books that were beside the fish. They were all written by the same person, and once he peeked inside, he realized they were all about the same person. They were the books that Jennifer had promised to get him. Hannibal Lecter was probably an interesting read, or would have been had he not been a cop who'd spent a "few" years in prison.
The detective's mind shifted from the fish and books and cannibal to the woman he'd kissed. His brows furrowed as he thought of her. She had tasted like pomegranate. He didn't know why, but she had. He bit into the apple and smiled. Well, that certainly tasted like an apple, a very good apple. Apples were good. Now who had that woman been? Why had she been so close to the crime scene? And why had he kissed her like that? It had almost felt as if he were kissing his wife; not that he thought she was his wife, but it was that strange rush of love. He'd kissed other women since he'd gotten out of prison, but there was nothing like kissing his wife. Okay, his ex-wife, but she'd always in some way be his wife.
Taking another bite of apple, Charlie shifted in his seat; it was a nice seat, cushy, better than what he'd had before in the precinct. Yet, it was missing something. Reese. It was missing Reese. Ted was here, but Tidwell and Reese were not. He chewed thoughtfully on the apple bite, yet Government could be Reese. No, Government couldn't be Reese, only Reese could be Reese, unless she wasn't Reese.
He sat up and looked at the folded piece of paper that was on the stack of mail. He didn't remember getting mail at work before. With a shrug, he pulled out a pen and nudged the paper open. Charlie lifted the apple to his lips for another bite, but stopped. Anthrax and diphtheria - probably a hoax, look at the letters, but... Where was Government? They had more than one job to do. Thinking back on the woman with the gun, he was going to need a bigger gun.