Notes: This is a response to a challenge issued on IWTBXF -- "The
Ikebana Challenge" -- in which someone writes a short character
study without actually naming the character, and everyone else has
to guess who the character is.
Anyone care to take a guess?
She takes the dismissal well, as she always does. It's never
personal -- she knows this, and takes her leave gracefully. Another
body awaits her, another afternoon in the cold morgue. I look at
him from the other side of the desk. His demeanor is somber. He
wants to get down to business.
We talk of cases, of suspects and dossiers, of expense reports and
crazed mutants. But I know what's really on his mind. It's written
all over his face.
And I should know; I'm thinking the same thing. No doubt, he sees
it on my face as well.
I'm thinking of her perfume when she enters a room, of her
presence. Her stature, and how she would fit so well into my tall
frame. How her hair smells when she stands just a little too closely.
We're both thinking about how important she is, how much we
both love her. Either of us would give ourselves -- heart, mind and
soul -- to protect her. And we both have done just that. The heart
was given away long ago, laid out on the line with quiet subtlety.
Quiet, yes, but made known to those who would harm her that her
safety was not negotiable. Our minds have been sacrificed time
and again, giving way to near-insanity at times. Her abduction; her
cancer. Unbearable. Our souls have been offered up to the Devil on
earth Himself in exchange for her health and well-being.
We both wonder how much we have to lose, and what she would
do if only she knew...