Uncanny

Emotions

An apple. An apple is one of the most mundane things but in the tale of Snow White an apple means toxicity and ruin. The evil queen is jealous. I am not jealous. Jealous and regret are very pointless much like other emotions. Emotions make us vulnerable. Being vulnerable makes us easy targets for deaths little game. The sooner we learn the sooner we fight. I pile on clothes as they will be lost through out the day. I pull my hair back behind my ears. Don't be in fashion, be above it. My mother's final words, well that I heard. I didn't care for her death. After all, emotions and vulnerability make us weak. I slip on faded black boots, grab three knives. My slip knife, my pocket knife and my favourite knife. I grab my keys, and step out into the hallway. Greeted by a chirpy familiar voice.
"Good morning miss Hazel. Where are you off to?" Dear Theodore. So sweet. Chivalry is not dead. Well not with him atleast. His y'all body and broad shoulders hovered over me, but much to my surprise it was not an annoyance.
"The police department actually. Report mr Jones next door." Whilst that was true, it wasn't all I was doing. I was reporting the 'suspicious' death. To 'help' them find this murderer. In all honesty it was so I wasn't caught. Play into a good girl role and all people suspect is when your nails aren't bright pink.
"Oh, what a coincidence. I'm their newest officer. If you don't mind, would you show me the way." In this day and age, a man asking for a woman's help is very very rare. It's odd. Theodore had this vibe about him, that he was from the future.
"Uh yeah. Sure." I held my chin high as not to show how nervous I was around him. I lock all three of my lock. First the bottom, then the middle, then the slide lock. I do this twice. Theodore gives me a look that says 'you're crazy. Cute crazy though.' I've been given this look many times. We walk down the dirty old apartment building. I count all the doors we walk past and remember who lives in which.
Door 13 is madame Dorothea. She is supposedly descent of witches, or so she says. I wouldn't know why you would go around bragging you are a witch. Salem trials have begun again.
Door 10 is Mr Harriet. I don't know much about him, I'm pretty sure he works for the New York Times.
Door 5 on the floor below me is two women. Nora and Rosa. They are both very pretty ladies, it surprises me they do not have husbands, there is gossip that they kiss. It's very disgusting.
Theodore and I walk down the crowded streets through the smoke. The wind is strong and a large gust blows past us. I understand what that smell in my apartment was last night. Cigars. Theodore smokes cigars. Which in his occupation is very affordable. But why would he live in such a filthy apartment if he truly does work at the station.

...

The station also smells of cigars with a hint of coffee. We are welcomed with a warm smile by the Constable. He is a sweet man. He rises from his chair, nodding his head in my direction as a sign of respect, and walks past me and welcomes Theodore with a firm handshake. Theodore is taller than this man. I had always thought the constable as a tall man he was ant like compared to Theodore. The constable also had an alcoholics stomach, he drank to deal with stress. He was recently divorced, and this job was not a day on the beach.
"You must be Theodore Cipriano. I'm Constable Jonathan Siles." The constable removed his hand from the boys and offered him a seat. He sat and I raised myself up preparing to speak.
"If I may-"
"Just a moment dear." Just like that I was silenced by a man. A man of power, as he referred to himself in many of our arguments. Both of them kept talking, Theodore shot me the occasional sympathy look, I turned my head up and ignored these pathetic excuses of apology's. I knew this was just so he could get on Mr Siles' good side, but it was irritating.
"A moment of your time, sir!"
"Theodore, a word please?" The constable ignored my pleas and rose up, Theodore followed. They went into the next room. I could faintly hear what they were saying.
"Theo, buddy, Hazel is uh a uh great person and all but she's, a bit, special. You know what I'm saying?" I knew the constable didn't like me very much, because I was better at his job than he was. Well I was better at lying.
"I know. She's very special. I've never met a girl quite like her. Intelligent, funny, precise, witty, beautiful......"
I zoned out of what he was saying, but he complemented me. I concentrated less on what was happening behind the thin wall and more on Theodore. I thought about every slight move. The way he adjusted himself to uncomfortable situation. The way he spoke his words. His voice low and mellow. Warm and soft. I thought about his tall and lean figure. His broad shoulders. The way his hair was unkept. Unlike the masses of styles about he had a warm 30s feel to him. Nothing like from the 40s. He was still a boy though. No beard or moustache. No signs of shaving either. This boy whom I thought a greaser was an officer. A person of power.
"Hazel...?" Both The constable and Theodore had come out. The constable spoke to me gently, as if I were a deer about to be frightened off.
"Please forgive me, I've forgotten what I came down here for." A lie. I knew exactly why I was here but I couldn't be any longer. I saw the way Theodore was looking at me. Maybe it was a bad thing I zoned out. He looked at me as if I were a mental ward outpatient. I gathered my things, I did not say good bye to either of these men. I knew I would pay later on, but that didn't bother me. I left the building with such urgency. A tear rolled down my eye. And I sprinted down the road. I knew how dangerous it was for me to be out here alone even in broad daylight. What had gotten over me, perhaps I was sick. Crying? Disrespecting a man of power? Fear of someone attacking me? Emotions.

Emotion makes us vulnerable.
Being vulnerable makes us weak.
Being weak makes us an easy target for deaths little game.