darseyrsm
The air is warm, sunshine beating down through breaks in the clouds. The white drapery softly defuses it. I squint against the light, only to blink back tears. The sun disappears to me along with the world. The only thing left is my bride. My wife. Today, she is my wife.
In the wide atrium, the central pedestal was the only source of light. The rest of the room was bathed in light shadows that flickered with the shifting of the mysterious object in its centre.
All those long, sleepless nights were coming back to haunt him. Luke tried to play it cool, but his mouth forced its way open into a wide, loud yawn. It drew attention from most of the crowd around him, including - to his great misfortune - his boss.
"Isn't it getting tedious for you too?" I voice the question I have been thinking for weeks. "All this running around, pretending not to care too much?"
The heatwave outside meant that when Zoe finally entered the sheriff's station, she shivered at the blast of cool air that enveloped her. The soothing coolness didn't last long though. Inside the station, doing pull-ups and sweating up a storm, was Jo, the unreasonably good-looking deputy sheriff.
"It might be a little pricey, but I guess, if it really makes you happy..."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"It's... it's really nothing."
She's a liar, and you know that, but you still just want to trust her. You want to believe she's telling the truth when she promises not to hurt you. But you don't. So you push just little further until you feel the breath escape her lungs in one harsh blow.
"I really liked you," she says, like it isn't a lie. And the world crashes down around you when you start to think that right here, in this moment, you were the only liar.
"Are you questioning my sanity?" the lady drawled from the bed. The detective raised his eye at this, and simply opened her file to the part that read, highlighted: "multiple casualties."
"I wouldn't dare," he said with a smile.
The motel room was clean. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, I suppose, but somehow I always pictured these sorts of things in dirty, poorly-lit rooms. The beds are both made, and the garbage can has a fresh bag in it. There's a book on the side table with a bookmark saving a page close to halfway through. I wonder for a moment if the book has any hints in it as to how to stage a kidnapping, or if the person reading it was looking for something a little more escapist. Hard to tell from the cover.
Out on the lawn, a huge dog lay on the grass. Its dark fur was soaking up the sun, and its large tongue lolled lazily to one side. The tree to its left was spreading shade out just over the dog's water bowl so that it would stay cool.
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