Sick Love

I

Luke's blond, thick, wavy hair danced in the violent winds, with his blue eyes narrowing directly towards the distortion of the aesthetic rooftops, in which he had finalised a suspicion that his suspect was near. He delicately sprinted along the tiles, dividing his interest between the thought of satisfaction, namely catching the criminal and his own safety.

His shirt was white, his trousers were light grey, logically proving that perhaps his camouflage skills, or his infamous element of surprise would lack in such a beneficial situation.

Scrambling along the inner city, he struggled climbing above the skyline, dashing along with such a decreased speed. It appeared that he suffered a minor leg injury, in which case, the pain was cancelled out, by the sheer determination of capturing the criminal in the distance.

Instantly, the victim collapsed, almost symboling a gunshot or a surrenderance, in which was interpretative until Luke could inspect thoroughly. By all means, he couldn't decrease the effort, by getting complacent, perhaps a sly attempt for the criminal to con his opponent.

Luke jumped down, not as elegantly as he has previously done. He was the superior for certain now, and peered over the balcony, in which Luke saw the corpse of his prey. Feeling unsatisfied and highly annoyed, he stared down at the beauty of the Luxembourg architecture.

"That's a wrap guys, good work to everyone today."
The lights came on, that surrounded the director office after the direlect, and everyone blinked, adjusting their eyes to see the miniscule hut once more, and the faces of them inside, in which, you could infer the shot was successful. Everybody celebrated, as the repition of the shot got exceptionally tedious. It went on, and on and on, until finally, the hard work had been completed to a quality level, in the format of a long-awaited film.

Director Oskar Kafer walked over to Luke, with a smile, teeth as white as an apartment bathroom. Luke acknowledged this, standing proudly, almost manly, to show his happiness, arrogantly but deservedly.

"Well done Luke!" Oskar outbursted.
Luke stood there just for a little longer to savour his dominance, before smoothly replying.
"It was nothing really, nothing too difficult for myself."
He was really starting to get cocky now.
"Just a quick note on this section here.. when you run down, try to embrace the pathetic fallacy and the weather, for example flick your hair more, or give the audience the idea that it could be windy."
Although it was a fair point, both Luke and Oskar knew full well that the scene couldn't have been performed much better, hence the reason of why Oskars comment was not very useful, perhaps even irrelevant.
"Thanks for your work today, you have been sublime. I want to do the new scene on Tuesday. Don't be late.

And with that, the comforting alarm of being told he could leave, and go home, he got into his silver Corsa, and drove off far into the golden horizon.