It was a dark and stormy night. I awoke from a dream and looked into the mirror. It’d been years since I caught the wrong end of a bullet but it’s memorable trace still etched across my chiseled jaw. I looked over my shoulder at the Angel lying in bed. She had the body to match.
I left her there and stepped out into the dark and wet Seattle morning, wondering about her dreams. Regardless, they’d be sweeter than a guy like me would ever know. After filling a necessary cuppa joe at the nearest mini-mart, I added a compact bottle of courage I knew I’d need later. With daybreak came a clearing sky and that gut feeling I was being followed.
On the way back to the station my instincts proved correct. Sure enough the rear-view caught my dangling cigarette along with a black sedan hanging far enough behind to have the mark of a professional. The pieces of the puzzle from long ago were finally beginning to fit, and I figured it was only a matter of time before they’d attempt to bury me, again. Somehow all this felt a bit cliché…
(Work In Progress)