Sid

The blanket of night folded slowly and the sky turned blue in inches, as the sun rose grudgingly, yawning streaks of golden light into the town. It rose lazily over the forest, its trees seen from a distance as a bunch of green vegetation, slumbering still in their immortal sleep, over the coastal seas, the haze clouds over it and the early fisherman rowing out in the mist, over homes, the brown light on their roofs, grey and black dogs running around the grass, rubbing against trees and feeding it with their putrid urine. Over office workers, stumbling over blocks, knotting ties and punching door bells. Over school children, who ran and filed the streets and schools with their laughter. Over house wives, who slipped nonchalantly out of bed, slowly getting ready for the day and friends. Over drunken men, their clothes trialing in one hand, stalking below street walls, falling in the dirt and mud, stinking of their own icky vomit. Over the police department, looking like a lost penny amidst the towering structures of private hospitals and glowing residential areas. It sat forlornly on a rectangular area, lumpy in its poor structure. A drab looking building, splattered over with a worn green and brown paint. Its gate was situated in a queer corner of the compound, backing the main road like the plan was drawn by a faulty architect.

There was an irritate pee-pee outside, followed by a mindless curse. The gateman appeared from his shack and scurried towards the sound, sloping the gate open. A police patrol van nosed its way into the scrammy length of lawn and screeched of. The car gleamed in the morn, giving of a faint impression of the rider within. The door squeaked open; a smart looking man stepped out, his check shirt flushed in the wind blending into his dark trousers. His head twitched like a weather van in a storm, first to the left then to the right, then tilted his head back quickly as the noise from the prison department hit him. He recovered from the shock and pushed open the door to the police department and again threw his head back as the hot musty air seeped into his nostrils. The counter was empty, everywhere was dusty, the log book rested uncertainly on a roll of cobweb. He heard sharp clicking on a keyboard and peered into the investigation room…. He saw the figure of a woman, from the shape, it looked like someone.

"Hey Sid.....your sort of early today" the lady turned around to stare at him, her glasses gave off an intimidating glare, unseeing the smile on his face, she smiled back.

"Joe...you're still in mufti. What time is it?" her voice sounded unnatural and high pitched...

"I've been promoted" He looked at his watch "It's just ten"

Joe walked slowly over to his desk at the far end of the large room which held three more desks; Sid chuckled softly and went back to work…saying briefly over her shoulders.

"Not your kind Joe.....not your kind"

He placed a hand on his opposite wall, every inch covered in brown, musty photos, looking old and worn out. He took one of them and stared forlornly at it. The old eyes stared back at him, the grey of the hair curly and undefined, Joe wondered how so old a man could be accused of murder, accused of killing his own wife, the rugged face proclaimed no devil, the lips were furled in a wry smile. Well Joe thought, there is a devil in every man's heart. He replaced the photo, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the desk. There's no work at all he fumed. Sid gave him a side glance over her work …