After fruitlessly following the ambulance to the hospital, McNally decided to take the rest of the night off. She called her husband, Dan, to explain that work was going to keep her out for a few more hours and slowly drove her squad car underneath the motel's NO VACANCY sign. The bright orange yellow of the floor shrieked at her as she knocked softly on door number four.
He was already naked when she walked in the door--just woke up from a night of drinking whiskey and smoking weed probably. Perfect. At least she didn't have to work any harder than she had already. McNally couldn't explain the habit: after ten years of blissful marriage, she had willingly succumbed to the first wealthy man to reply to her online personal ad. "What do you need today, baby?"
"The usual. Take your time." She liked the way he barked at her. Luckily for her conscience, she didn't care what her mouth did when her brain was on break. When he was finished, she quickly adjusted her clothing, grabbed $300 off of the nightstand, and stumbled through the back door.
Exhausted and delirious, the good detective reapplied her make up with her right hand and drove home absently with her left. The burned out streetlights didn't bother her anymore; she enjoyed the contemplative darkness of the wee hours of the morning. She sneaked into her house and crawled into bed alone. Dan was already awake and making breakfast, but McNally needed at least an hour or two before yet another crazy day. As darkness began to descend on her consciousness, she again remembered the eyes of the victim. What is it that is so powerful that it can rob a man of his soul?
***
Clark sits in front of the gym mirror, as usual, watching himself lift the weight over and over again. His eyes close as he grunts and pushes for one final repetition, after which he drops the weights and walks away, wiping the sweat from his face. "Today's the day. I just know it is. Today, I get my big break."
Cla
He was already naked when she walked in the door--just woke up from a night of drinking whiskey and smoking weed probably. Perfect. At least she didn't have to work any harder than she had already. McNally couldn't explain the habit: after ten years of blissful marriage, she had willingly succumbed to the first wealthy man to reply to her online personal ad. "What do you need today, baby?"
"The usual. Take your time." She liked the way he barked at her. Luckily for her conscience, she didn't care what her mouth did when her brain was on break. When he was finished, she quickly adjusted her clothing, grabbed $300 off of the nightstand, and stumbled through the back door.
Exhausted and delirious, the good detective reapplied her make up with her right hand and drove home absently with her left. The burned out streetlights didn't bother her anymore; she enjoyed the contemplative darkness of the wee hours of the morning. She sneaked into her house and crawled into bed alone. Dan was already awake and making breakfast, but McNally needed at least an hour or two before yet another crazy day. As darkness began to descend on her consciousness, she again remembered the eyes of the victim. What is it that is so powerful that it can rob a man of his soul?
***
Clark sits in front of the gym mirror, as usual, watching himself lift the weight over and over again. His eyes close as he grunts and pushes for one final repetition, after which he drops the weights and walks away, wiping the sweat from his face. "Today's the day. I just know it is. Today, I get my big break."
Cla
