[18+] - CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Traumatized by life and grief-stricken, a young ex-soldier returns to his hometown hellbent on pursuing the woman he loves - a woman who is now someone else's fiancée.
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When she was fourteen, Love Johnson wrote a lett...
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The cleaning lady was earlier than Jonathan today. He met her at the foyer, sweeping a thick layer of dust off the floor. She looked up when he stepped in, brown eyes shining in delight at his presence. Dressed in a pale grey dress, her hair tied in a bun behind her angular face, she had a motherly aura around her and talked to him like he were her own, seeing in him the glimpses of the son she lost during the Persian Gulf crisis.
"You're early today," she said in her chirpy voice, an act that made Jonathan give her a smile immediately.
"I am indeed," he said, taking careful steps around her so as to not disturb her work. "Boss called. Says he has urgent news."
Small talk came easily to Jonathan. He was like that. Taking care of people's needs before his own came naturally to him. He was patient, self-sufficient, and kind. He never asked for anything, had everything, and wanted nothing.
Well, nothing except her.
"Everything well?" the cleaning lady named Miranda asked with worried eyes shimmering at him.
"I hope so," Jonathan replied before giving her a two-finger salute. She chuckled at his actions as he disappeared behind the double doors which led to the office of Officer DeLaurenti.
Riverville's only police station was a small accommodation for the working officers and detectives on the outskirts of town. The road further led to Coaltown, a close competitor of Riverville's citizens when it came to the water resources. The police station had a dusky atmosphere with sullen faces hung over the files of thousands of unsolved cases, old men smoking cigars and the boss, Officer DeLaurenti, sitting in his little office, and pretending that the environment surrounded by his lazy colleagues didn't bother him.
Perhaps that's why he loved Jonathan because the latter was the only one he could trust to get his job done. He had often asked Jonathan how he was not in the superior teams already with his physique and his clever and calm mental state. Jonathan avoided the question like he was dodging a bullet. He never did like to state the reason for his sudden appearance in the small town.
"Come in," the voice inside said once he knocked his knuckles on the translucent glass door.
Jonathan pushed it open, greeted with the sight of DeLaurenti leaning back in his chair, one leg perched over the other, looking pale and sorrowful. Jonathan swallowed a gulp, raising his hands to brush the strands of his black hair out of his forehead in a neat manner.
"Everything well, officer?" Jonathan asked the older man, pulling a brown leather chair from the desk and placing himself in it.
DeLaurenti with the white hair cropped close to his head, looked at him with pitiful grey eyes which made the alarm bells quickly ring in Jonathan's head. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, waiting for the officer to say something.
"Your phone? Is something wrong with it?" asked the older man.
"I dropped it last night," he replied. "Was supposed to get it fixed today. Why? Is anything the matter?"
