Trio Of Time-Takers

Subtitle: Explanation For Infrequency Of Entries

The State:

I run my fingertips around the firearm tucked by his shirt. He and I are in my vehicle tucked beside an unoccupied residence. The thickness of rainfall further secrets our encounter. I am beyond rhapsodic he contacted me -- on this exact day, and, in the first place, months ago. I. Adore. Him. A kindred spirit he is, connecting with me like no other. His smile indicates he’s not opposed to my ever-increasing fixation with him. To the beat of descending water we speak about everything. And nothing. His eyes coruscate with amusement. I play with his hand while he talks. He is smart. So smart. He’s entirely no good for information on the JADE Task Force; they should be grateful. But he does offer a deeper glimpse into the world of Law Enforcement -- insight on badged boys and their toys. I think I’ll keep him.

The County:

The street light illuminates his sinewy shape well. It’s an odd place, odd time, for us to meet but it’s all we can swing. I haven’t seen him in, it seems, ages. Two weeks is ages, correct? He gives me the lowdown on “the hen house.” Yes, that’s really what he calls his department. Funny, another ACPD guy used that same term as a description just a month ago. Are they friends? Being the tease he is, my attractive companion serves me Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement gossip last. Sometimes I have to weed out his vitriol to find the facts. I poke him in the ribs and tell him his malevolence is showing. He cracks a cop joke which makes me laugh which makes him laugh. Verbal dancing is his forte. He wraps his arms around me tight before parting. He’s right, I really ought to be more available for him.

The City:

He stands in front of me his breath raspy, his body taut with fury. What have I done? I’ve depended on him, trusted him with nearly everything. The JADE items he’s been holding for safe-keeping for me he’s now holding for ransom from me. He feels used, neglected. I vehemently shake my head back and forth at every accusation he makes. He knows I won’t lie to him. Much more crucially, he knows I will never betray him. My eyes still wet, the side of my face still stinging, I cautiously approach him and untangle the remnants of a few long black hairs of mine that linger intertwined in his clenched fist. I have to calm him down. I have to fix this. Even as bruises are forming on me I tell him he’s still my favorite. I need him.