|Life with Rex
Author: amber912 PM
Every chapter of this literary work is a short separate story, reflecting Moser's everyday sweets and bitters. His hopes, his dreams, ties of friendship... Even his failures, because that's life. Life with Rex.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - R. Moser - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,753 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 12-20-06 - Published: 10-27-06 - id: 3216256
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Note: this is my first "Kommissar Rex" fanfic, based on Moser's POV.
Disclaimer: "Kommissar Rex" is owned by Mungo film, SAT.1 and ORF, or in other words – I don't own "Kommissar Rex". (But I wish I did…)
Story: Autumnal Thoughts
It may seem that I don't like my job, but it's not like that. It's quite opposite. Sometimes I get too tired, that's all. To be honest, I can't imagine a usual day without my colleagues – Stockinger, Hollerer, and of course Rex. Rex is like a guardian angel, saver from my sorrow. In a way we both helped each other to outlive the ills of life: these hard times when Rex lost his boss, and I lost…
I lost? I have no regrets – I'm doing perfectly without her. It was her who decided to divorce, and she knew what she was going to throw away. I have to confess that she has never missed me, never tried to make contact. The last time I heard from her was that damned day when she phoned to the office and informed that she was taking away her furniture. (And apparently she had mistaken some with mine.) By the way, Stocki was the one to answer that call, not me. And Gina was lucky – if I had a chance, I would have cussed her out. And that would be the smoothest way to express my feelings – believe me, there was a period of time when I had been allergic to the words 'wife', 'divorce', and especially to the infamous name 'Gina'. My usual reaction to them was clenching fists upon the look for any cause that could let me pour out all the fury that I was repressing.
The past will never repeat itself – I'm glad that such a law exists. I don't feel like having willingness to relive anything from my past.
But during these rainy autumnal nights I always remember the worst and the most offensive things that have ever happened to me. My memory is like a certain time machine, carrying me back anew... against my will. And although during the 'journey' I could jump out of the machine, I have never tried: it seemed to me that by doing this I would definitely hurt myself.
P.S. I would be pleased if someone shows me the grammar mistakes of this story. Thanks!