// she was like lemon sorbet // And sometimes that's all there is

In which your "typical" bad boy finds himself thrown into the window of the perfect little flower shop

The sky was grey; a few birds sat on the closest building and the sun had risen just above the horizon. Everything but the wind was still; it was too early for anyone to notice the small crowd of police officials. I checked my watch. It was about seven. People will start to make their way to this part of town, and hear about the death prematurely. They may see raw details, un-softened by their nightly television programs. This worried me; panic is not something we need surrounding this case. Feeding them lies through the news is better than the truth. To be honest I think we could be close, but a bunch of mere civilians toddling around close to police lines could interrupt me. I've been losing train of thought so easily as of late, and more bodies are going to end up on the sharp rocks in this quarry if I can't focus long enough to think anything through. I took a breath. Focus.