the alpha

Part 2

6:43 pm
748 Kirkwood Ave SE

It has been a while since he had this feeling, but it's not going away, and, in fact, it has not gone away since this morning, when he observed the detective standing in this room, staring at the table in a wistful sort of way that he's seen more than once. People love the staging, it gives them ideas. They believe that they know what they will do once they buy a home, what will go where, which piece of furniture will accentuate this part of the home and so on and so forth. But the detective had stood right here, in this spot, where he stands now, and looked upon the table with something akin to longing, or passion, or something else he could not quite define at the moment.

What had he seen?

A family perhaps, with children and their loving, doting parents seated at the table, smiling at one another serenely? It was a nice image to be certain, and one that he might enjoy one day. But that is for another time, and perhaps he's simply fooling himself. But it is a dream that some tend to have quite often when they find themselves longing for company. Could it be what the detective had envisioned? It was entirely possible.
It is almost time. Tom's vivid and convoluted mind, whispering what he already knows, does not help any. His body is already crawling with anticipation of what is to come, but he doesn't want to let go of this moment, not yet. The detective saw something here, he is certain of it, but he can't figure out what it might have been. If it is even close to what he's thinking then he wants that moment, he wants to figure out what it feels like, and why the detective looked so longingly at this spot.

There is nothing unique or special about this table and chair set, it's something that was staged to make the home feel warmer, more complete. The vase in the center is little more than cheap glass filled with fake flowers that are meant to be charming, as the stagers that dolled up the home are among the best in the state but are also among the most successful since they know how and where to find items that can be used more than once. This particular setup has been used in one way or another in several homes and is still holding up.

What did he see?

Tom's curiosity stirs again, and he knows that he will have to let it go for now. But he will be back, one way or another. He has to know.

Chapter 4

October 3rd, 2014
07:02 am
Oakland Cemetery
Atlanta, Georgia

Something feels wrong. No, something feels...off.

He pinches the bridge of his nose delicately between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand. There is no pain there. Running his hands delicately along his jawline, pressing inward, he can feel every sensation, but none of it is unpleasant, none of it has that horrible loose feeling that he is experienced in the past. So, what is it?

Tom is slumbering as he rests against one of the large trees within the cemetery,
alone with his thoughts. In a few moments he will rise to his feet again with the rustle of fabric in his ears to dash away once more, But something is wrong, he can feel it. Pressing his hands to the top of his head he feels nothing amiss there, nor is there anything wrong when he presses his cheekbones. Is it all in his mind? Tom's probing gives no answers as he lies huddled and silent, his nightly jaunt done, and his time spent for the moment.

"Good morning. You all right?"

Tom is startled, and so is he, but just for a moment. Turning to his left he sees a uniformed police officer, his dark blue and black suit and jacket standing out amid the drab gray and brown surroundings. Winter has not come yet, but the hues that have drained from the world are a firm reminder that it is in fact coming. Puffs of vapor are coming from the officer's mouth as he stands there, looking friendly enough as he lowers his chin just a bit. He is expecting an answer, that look says, and Tom knows better than to stay silent.