A Secret Hidden in Plain Sight

Poor Jenny! I should probably finish her story! I really have no idea where I'm taking her though, so this should be interesting... If you want to go back to the beginning and read her story, head on over to the story links page. You'll find links to the other posts there.

For three weeks Jenny studied the key. She turned it over and over searching for anything that could be a possible clue to its purpose. There was nothing. It was a key, but it was a key to nothing.
After three weeks of frustration she dropped the key into the drawer of her nightstand and swore she'd forget about it, and forget about the night in the cemetery. That wasn't a memory worth holding anyway.
But she couldn't forget about it. She went to bed and dreamed about it. It was the first thing she thought about in the morning. The cemetery and the key haunted her thoughts. The key and the cemetery. The cemetery and the key. With a flash of clarity, it clicked into the place. The cemetery and the key were two halves to a whole. She'd find the answer at the cemetery.
Jenny was too frightened to go at night, after her last experience at the cemetery, so she waited until the sun was high overhead, at its brightest point. Maybe, without the shadows, that overwhelming fear would stay away.
The cemetery in the sunlight was quiet. It didn't look like the same cemetery. Still, the moment Jenny stepped through the gate, she felt a shift, a change. Something wasn't right. She hovered just inside the gate, clutching the key in her pocket. Did she dare continue? Her mind screamed at her to run. Her heart told her if she did, she'd always regret it. Swallowing hard, she stepped away from the gate, making a beeline for Alex's headstone. Your answer lies with Alex... The words replayed in her mind. With Alex.
A minute later she stood in front of his headstone, gazing down at the smooth stone. "My answer lies with Alex." She said the words out loud, as if somehow hearing them would make it more real. She walked around the stone, searching for anything out of place. She ran her hand along the smooth surface, hoping to find a notch or a crevasse. Anything that could hide a secret. Nothing.
Just before she turned to go she saw it, the anomaly she was hoping for. The stone had the typical words engraved on it, words she'd told them to write. His name, date of birth, date of death, and the words... "I'll always love you" beneath them all. But barely visible beneath the "L" in love the stone was a different color, a darker shade then the rest. The reason she noticed was because the color was in the shape of a keyhole.

What I've Learned

When I started writing three years ago I had an idea of what I was doing, but I didn't know everything. I still don't know everything.
But I knew the basics. Here's what I did know:
1. I enjoyed it.
2. Writing was easy for me (I mean writing in general, coming up with a plot for a novel was a different story altogether).
3. I had a good grasp on grammar and spelling (English was always my strong point).
4. I knew what a book needed to have in order to be a good book. I'd known since I was ten (would you like to know? The best books I've ever read had four key elements: Drama, Suspense, Romance, and Action. If the author is really good he'll incorporate comedy as well, but that's not a necessary component).
So that's what I knew when I started. The basics. Now, three years later, I've learned a lot more. What have I learned to add to it? Here goes:
1. Romance is a necessary component for me. It isn't for men. They'd rather that be kept to a minimum. Drama, Suspense, and Action will still make a GREAT book.
2. A good book has a certain rhythm to it. It flows easily from one sentence to the next. Writing is as much about words as it is about cadence. A well-written book flows as smoothly as poetry.
3. All you have to do is start. Once you do, the creative juices will start flowing!
4. Writer's block is mean, mean, mean! It'll trip me up for months. I should follow my own advice (see number three).
5. Practice really does make perfect. My writing style when I started was influenced by the writing style of the book I was reading at the time. Now, I'm discovering my style. It took time, but it was worth it!
6. Perfection probably won't come the first time, but persistance leads to perfection.
7. Persistance is key. Just keep going! I don't care what goal you're working toward. Persistance is key!
8. It helps to have a cheering section, even if that cheering section is just you.
9. Everybody has advice. Do this. Do that. Don't do this. Don't break that rule. I'm glad the info is out there, but sometimes, rules are made to be broken.
10. I have a dark side, but it's not that dark. What does that mean? Well, I'll tell you. I can write about characters getting stabbed or hurt. I can write about murder and mayhem. But you won't get dirty details. I don't want to be in the mind of a murderer, so I don't write about what he's thinking. I find books like that very disturbing. That being said, I can go dark. I can. In my current novel I have a crazed murderer who really wants everybody dead. I have an obsessed boyfriend who just wants her, dead or alive, doesn't really matter. Maybe he'll just kill her. I can go there, but I won't go in the mind, and you probably won't get details so violent you end up wishing you'd never read it. I've read books like that. I don't like them. I want to feel good after I've finished a book, not like I need to go take a shower. A really good book doesn't need all those freaky details. Some, yeah. You want to know what's going on. But not excessive. Dan Brown is a good example. He gives enough freaky details that you know what's going on, but not so many that you're disturbed. Patricia Cornwell, on the other hand, is not afraid to go disturbing. And I've read worse than that from authors that I honestly hope never get that particular book published because the writing is so disturbing.
11. Last. If you want to write a good book, you're going to need to get emotionally invested. You have to, otherwise your characters can't come to life. They'll fall flat because they'll be lacking the emotional base. And that is why I don't like disturbing books. Because the author had to go there in his mind in order to get the disturbing detail and that thought always leaves me wondering what is really going on in their world and in their mind. I'm assuming I don't really want to know.

That, my friends, is some of what I've learned over the past three years. I'm sure over the next three I'll learn a lot more.

Passion: An Explanation

If you look up the word passion in the dictionary, you'll get a definition similar to this: any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as in love and hate. That will be the first definition. The other two definitions you'll see have to do with love and lust. When people think of passion, most of the time they equate it with love or lust, basically with relationships to people. I used to see it that way. In fact, if I remember correctly (it's been a while since my thought processes have changed), I used to view passion in a negative. The thought process I had went something like this: Passion = strong emotion = carnal desire or the carnal mind in control = wicked.
Ouch.
Here's how I view passion now. It can't be done in ='s however. More in lead to's. So here's my lead to ">". Passion > enthusiasm > goals > accomplishment > greater self-worth > loving the self > loving others > God. That may even be a loop because I believe God is the creator of true passion. So, looking at is as a loop it would look like this: God (loving God, serving God, trying to live for God... however you want to look at it) > passion > enthusiasm > goals > accomplishment > greater self-worth > loving the self > loving others > God.
God starts it, God ends it. Passion, when used to better yourself, which in turn betters the lives of others, is a positive. It's a good thing.
Like any good there's always the bad, so passion can be used for the negative. The passion of lust can destroy relationships, the passion of hate can destroy lives. But just because passion has a negative, doesn't mean it is wrong altogether. Everything has a negative. Everything has an opposite. Does that mean everything is wrong?
No.
When you pursue a passion, chances are you're going to come to a point where you question what you're doing and whether or not you should be doing it. I know I questioned it... a lot. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be a writer. Maybe I'm just supposed to be a mom and wife and be okay with that. I've tried that path though, and I sink into depression because I don't feel like a person. I feel like "wife" and "mom", not me. I kinda like to be me.
So, when you start to question, pull back a bit and examine your passion. Ask yourself why. That's the best place to start. Why are you pursuing that particular passion? If the answer is only money, you might want to look deeper, because I personally don't believe that's enough. Money can be an off-shoot, but it's not the desire of a true passion. What do you really want? Why are you choosing that particular way to get it? I can only use myself as an example, but I will. What I really want is to better the lives of others, in any way that I can. I want to use the gifts I've been given to make the lives of other people better. That is my ultimate goal. Why did I choose writing to do this? Because I love it. Because when I write I feel something in me that wakes up and smiles. Because I love to use my mind and see the creative side come to life. Because words literally give me joy. Sounds crazy, I know, but they do. I love words. They make me happy. Like rainbows make other people happy, words make me happy. So I want to achieve my ultimate goal doing something that I absolutely love. If you pull back and examine your passion, chances are you'll feel something similar. You'll find the real reason you're pursuing that passion and the real reason you chose that particular passion. Man is that he might have joy. I believe passion has a role to play in bringing us joy, especially when we channel that passion into something that benefits others.

Goals

So we all know I have goals. Lots of them. What I don't have are smaller goals that will help me achieve the bigger goals. I'm pretty sure everybody knows my goal is to be a published author. I'm pretty sure everybody knows I'm going to achieve that goal one way or another... well, maybe that's just me. Anyway, I have these huge goals, but I don't have a plan of action to achieve these goals. I'm working toward them, absolutely, but it's a piecemeal effort. I do a little here, a little there, and I hope that eventually I'll get where I'm going. So, to cite an example, I've been working on my novel for three years now. Three years. That's a long time. I actually finished it five months after I started it, but then the edits started, and then, when I had edited it to my liking, I began the querying and agent hunting. I was moving forward. But then I hit a brick wall. A big, fat brick wall. My life threw me a huge curve ball (and when I say huge, I do mean huge), and I ended up really questioning what I really wanted. I couldn't look at the book for a year. I couldn't write anything for myself for at least a year. I wrote articles that I sold, but those were challenging. Writing became a burden rather than the joy it had been. I didn't know if it was worth it anymore, not after what life had just handed me.
Eventually, I began to feel like I could do it again. Here's the part where the little goals that I should have come in. I re-read my novel and realized that it needed some serious work. It was too generic, too blase, too predicable, too everything. It needed some improvements! I decided to improve. That was months ago. I'm still improving. I know where I'm taking it, but the challenge to write is still there. I love it. The dream is back, but unfortunately the challenge that it became hasn't left yet. So I write a couple hundred words a week, or every two weeks. No wonder it's not going anywhere! If I were smart, I'd have weekly or daily goals of three to five hundred words. Those are small goals, tiny really, but they'd get me moving forward. They'd get the book finished. Small goals... kind of imperative. I haven't yet made the committment to do that, but I'd like to.
Anyway, this is a new lesson I'm learning in following your passion. You have to have smaller goals that will help you achieve the big goal, otherwise the big goals will take forever to come to fruition, if it comes to fruition at all. Get those small goals going. Put some value on your goals and yourself and see where it takes you.

Road Blocks

Following your passion isn't a simple matter of making a choice and doing it. It is making a choice. But after you make the choice, you're going to come across a lot of road blocks. It's the nature of the beast.
That sounds really negative, but in the grand scheme of things, it's a blessing. Those road blocks are there for a lot of reasons. One, they help you decide whether or not the thing you're pursuing is really a passion and worth pursuing. Two, they help you truly define the goal because you learn through them what you really want and what it is you just think you want. And three, they teach you... a lot! They teach you what you need to know to remain constant while all of your dreams are being realized. For example: how many lottery winners are now broke? They achieved their dream (winning the lottery), but they didn't have the experiences before achieving the dream that would teach them how to handle the dream, so they lost it. You are who you are. Sometimes in order to achieve the goals you're seeking, you have to become a stronger, better you. These road blocks teach you how to do that. Just remember, a goal worth pursuing will change you for the better!

Fear sets in

As soon as I discovered the joy of writing, I started to see myself achieving all these wonderful goals using the writing skills I'd recently uncovered. Most notably, I wanted to be a published author. I still want to be a published author. And I still intend to be a published author. But, wanting something and achieving something are two different things. You can want it all you want, but it doesn't just show up. You have to work toward it. You have to fight for it. You have to power through those days when you just want to give up. A goal worth achieving isn't a goal that just happens. It's a goal that you sweat over, fight over, and cry over because in the end, if you haven't really worked for what you want, than you're not going to recognize or appreciate the value of the dream.

I learned this lesson with my writing. Since my goal is to be a published author, I began researching everything I could about getting published. Oh my! What I learned was so intimidating it was tempting to just take the easy road and back out. Do my writing, write my novels, but not push the publishing thing. It sounded like a lot of scary stuff that I knew absolutely nothing about. Writing a synopsis. Querying an agent. Landing an agent. Making sure the agent wasn't scamming me. Not giving away the farm to a publisher by signing a contract that I don't understand. Those are all road blocks. Worse, everywhere you read everybody says the same thing. Your opening chapter has to be strong or else the agents and editors will never look past the first paragraph! Hook them with your opening line on the query! You have three hundred words to suck them in. Do it right! A synopsis can only be so long; sum your entire 250 page (or more) book into five pages! Write your author bio (I'm thinking, what author bio! I don't have one!!!), build yourself a platform! Don't get stuck in the slush pile!!!!!! And the worst... you know how many authors have tried and failed? Thousands.
Talk about a slap in the face. My reaction... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Have I just decided to jump into the one occupation on earth that is nearly impossible to get into? Again, AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Months into it, I'd bombarded myself with so much information I ended up gulping in fear and seriously rethinking my goals. Did I really want what I thought I wanted? And you know what, the answer was I don't know. I really, really don't know. I decided I'd keep going anyway. I knew I loved to write. I knew it made me happy. So, at the very least, I was going to write. I'd work for the other stuff when I came to it.
There were a few key factors that I took into consideration when I first faltered in my dream. First, my husband had become my cheering section. I'd told him what I wanted and he wanted to see me do it. This was both a good and a bad thing. It was good because I had his support. It was bad because my confidence in myself was so low, that I was afraid he'd see me as a failure if I never published anything. I realize now that he wouldn't, but at the time (three years ago), I couldn't see that. So I had this huge fear of failing... again... at something I'd tried (I'd tried to sell Mary Kay, and I'd taken some courses on medical transcription. I didn't do either of them well. Turns out, they weren't my passion). I couldn't stand to think that he saw me as a failure. So because of that I allowed the fear in, which seriously hindered me in my path. Fear is not a motivator; it kills motivation. And I had let it in. This was my own personal demon which I had to overcome. He had no part in it. He did his best to cheer me on, to build me up with visions of my own dreams. He did a great job. But that fear seriously slowed me down, though, in a strange way, it also kept me going. Fear is not a motivator, but I couldn't stop when my dream faltered because I couldn't stand to fail. So, it did keep me going, though probably not in the best way.
The second thing that kept me going was that I saw myself where I wanted to be. They say if you want something to see yourself there. To feel the emotions you'll experience when you get there. It'll cement the thing in your future and give you the drive to push for it. I had done this. It wasn't on purpose, it just happened. I could see myself (still can) achieving my dreams. I really could. So that helped keep me focused.
After a few months, when the fears began seeping in, I began to question what I really wanted. This would go on for a while.
But, it's all part of the process. I repeat: It's all part of the process!!!! Without the fears, how will you learn to overcome, how will you learn to appreciate what you have and gain, and how will you be strong enough to handle what you want when you get it?

The Beginning

I discovered I loved writing after I read Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series (not number four, however, because it wasn't out yet). I read the books, loved the books, bought the books and then thought, "If she can do it, why can't I?"
I'd always wanted to write a novel; it was on my list of goals for myself. And I'd tried a few different times to do it, but I just couldn't seem to pull it off. Something changed after reading those books. I'm not even sure what it was, but I knew that I could do it. So, I did. I sat down to my computer, stuck my fingers on the keys... and sat there. And sat there. And sat there. What do I write? I asked myself. Where do I start? I asked myself. I had no idea. So I sat.
Obviously, that wasn't working. Thinking maybe I needed some inspiration, I turned on some music, the kind that "spoke" to me, as it were. FYI, the song was "Rainsong" by George Winston. One of my favorites.
Anyway, music plays and guess what happens? Magic. I start writing, and writing, and writing, and writing. Five months later I had finished my first novel. But, more than that, my journey had begun. I was beginning to learn what it means to dream, what it means to have passion, and what it takes to pursue both.

The Quest

I started this blog more than two years ago as a creative writing outlet. The goal then was to give people a place where they could go to find fiction stories that were new and fresh. It was also a way for me to improve my writing skill; by doing something often, you get better at it. Obviously my initial goal never came to fruition. Updating the same story daily didn't really work for me becuse more often than not, I would sit down to update and end up staring at a blank page with absolutely no idea what I was going write. Not a good thing. So I decided to change things up.
When I started writing a little over three years ago I didn't know that I was starting a journey. All I knew was that I'd discovered something I loved to do, and that I was going to do it. But so much has happened since that discovery that I have become a completely different person. You may be wondering why. Well, once I found my passion I realized that I had goals and dreams that I wanted to achieve. I learned the value of dreaming, of pushing for things that I never realized were possible, of learning that things really are possible. I learned the true feeling of passion and I learned how important it is to truly value yourself. These are only some of what I've discovered and it hasn't only been through my writing journey, but since writing is so tied to my life, the lessons learned all come through and are affected by it. So this blog has changed like I have changed. It's now about the journey and my passion. It's about learning and growing and developing who you are as a person. It's about the struggles that come up and what it takes to overcome them. Since writing is my passion, it's about writing as well. Anything and everything I can think of that might relate to writing may just end up on here. I don't know where this blog will take me and I don't know where my journey will take me, but I hope that through my journey and this blog I can help other people achieve the goals they've set for themselves and ultimately, their dreams.

A New Path

Look at the object. Learn the secrets. The small voice didn't stay small for long. After fleeing the cemetery and screeching onto a street with light, Jenny's fear began to dissipate and logic slowly set in. The creature in the cemetery had been nothing but a man. Her senses had simply been heightened by the dark, the cold, and her own emotions getting the better of her.
Look at the object. Learn the secrets. The thought grew in intensity. Learn the secrets. She glanced onto the seat where she had tossed the object. Glittering in the streetlight was an iron key. The design matched those of keys forged hundreds of years before, but the key itself gleamed as bright as a newly minted quarter.
Jenny parked her car in front of Alicia's apartment, picking the key up and turning it over and over in her hands, looking for any clue that it might reveal. The only thing she learned was that it was very heavy, heavier than it should have been for iron. There were no markings, no engravings. For the cryptic way it had been delivered, Jenny had been sure there would be a cryptic clue somewhere. But there was nothing. Frustrated, Jenny pocketed the key and hurried into Alicia's apartment. The storm was rising in intesity, rain pelted the street, the windows, her bare head as she rushed to the door. It beat on the ceiling, sounding like millions of tiny drummers all trying to out-beat the others. It was going to be a long night.

A Dark Message - 6

Without quite knowing why, Jenny chose to follow the advice of the young stranger. Her stomach felt like one giant knot. This was a new sensation; a cross between caution and fear. The girl had seemed nice enough, but something about her was dark... cryptic. But regardless of her feelings, Jenny knew she had to listen to the girl.
She found herself now standing in front of Alex's newly laid headstone. It wasn't a good night to be out here. The air was bitter cold and the wind was picking up, howling through the trees, ripping through her light jacket as if it wasn't even there. Jenny glanced around furtively, feeling a strange sense of unease. The moon cast flickering shadows through the waving tree branches, covering everything in dancing minions.
One shadow wasn't moving; it was blacker than the night and still as stone. When it finally did move, it moved slowly, toward her. Jenny backed up a step, feeling the panic flood through her body. Her limbs felt like jelly. The shadow moved faster now, coming toward her at a swift pace. Running would do her no good; there was nowhere to hide in this miserable graveyard. The only thing she could do was gape in absolute terror as the shadow grew in height, coming swiftly closer. It stopped no less than a foot from her body. The being towered above her. In the dark she could only discern that the shadow had the shape of a man, but the man was too large to be human. Before she knew what was happening, a giant hand snatched hers up, laying something cold and heavy in her palm. "When you're ready, look at what I've given you," a voice whispered. The voice didn't match the body. It was too soft, too quiet. "But don't look unless you know you can handle the truth. For if you can't, this will destroy you, as it destroyed Alex."
Jenny's hand instinctively curled around the object, but her eyes never left the huge bulk in front of her. She nodded briskly, not trusting her voice. The shadow receded, melting back into the dancing minions. Jenny stared after it, rooted to the spot by terror and uncertainty. Her mind was a jumble of a million questions, none of which she knew the answer to. The object in her hand was cold, like steel. Trembling, she finally turned and ran to her car, locking the doors and starting the engine almost simultaneously. One thought shouted in her mind. "Get the hell out of this place. Leave the secrets behind!" Another thought, much smaller but growing in gravity, whispered a different message. "Look at the object, learn the secrets."

Help Comes Unexpectedly - 5

Jenny walked slowly up the street, toward Alicia's home. Since Alex's murder, Jenny had been staying with Alicia; staying in the apartment where Alex had been killed was just too painful. She sighed, glancing up the street. It was painful staying with Alicia too. She knew her friend was trying to be helpful, to comfort her, but Alex, despite all his failures, had loved her. She knew he had. He was always trying to make her laugh, to help her see the good in everything. She felt so alone with him gone.
She sank onto the steps outside the apartment, not caring that the cold of the concrete seeped through her clothing. Alex had been killed a month ago and the police had made no headway on solving his murder. When she asked for updates, the only response she got was a patient "No dear, we don't know anything yet." They treated her like they would a child. The kind cop was the exception to this rule. He always treated her wonderfully, but he could never tell her anything. Sometimes it felt to Jenny like they weren't even trying.
Jenny sighed heavily, "Alex," she cried, "What do I do? I'm scared. I feel so alone." She wrapped her arms around her chest. "You wouldn't just sit here. You would do something. Anything! You were always the strong one. I can't do it," she muttered, "I can't do anything."
"Yes you can."
Jenny looked up, startled. A young woman stood in front of the steps. Wide eyes in a thin face were framed by short, black hair that spiked in every direction. Her eyes darted around nervously before coming to rest on Jenny's face. "There's always something you can do," she said urgently.
Jenny stiffened, "You don't know that," she snapped. "You don't even know what I'm dealing with."
"I know more than you think." The response was cryptic. The girl glanced up and down the street, then took a step closer to Jenny. "Your answer lies with Alex," she said urgently. "Go to him."
Jenny stared at her, wide-eyed. "But Alex... he's dead."
The girl nodded, "Go to him," she whispered again then she darted down the street and was gone.

New author!

Oh my goodness, it's been f-o-r-e-v-e-r since I last updated. Sorry about that. I've been spending a lot of my time focusing on the novel I'm writing. I'll have to post an excerpt one of these days :). Anyway, considering the fact that my goal is to be a published author, I thought I might promote a new author who recently published her first book. Her name is Lisa Mangum and the book is titled "The Hourglass Door". It's the first in a series, which is nice on one hand and not so nice on the other. I love series... I relish them really, but oh I hate waiting for the next book to be written! The sequel to this book will be published next year, I believe. So I get to wait. Oh well.
Anyway, the story is about a young high schooler named Abby and a mysterious stranger named Dante. It's a love story, but like any good love story it has other elements. This one has time travel, which definitely makes it interesting. I'm not going to reveal the entire plot on this blog, but I will say that it is worth reading, and it's a simple read. There were a few parts that I thought could have been elaborated upon... a little more detail would have made them better, drawing me into the story more, but overall it was good. You'll find that the characters are easy to like, especially Dante who is hot and mysterious, the perfect mix. I'm looking forward to watching her writing career. I hope some of you enjoy her book as well.

P.S. the image above is a picture of the cover of her book. I found the picture online and posted it here so you all would know what you're looking for. No, I have no rights to the picture, so if that was illegal, let me know!

Questions - 4

Jenny sat alone at the police station. The old police officer had gone to get her some water, leaving her alone in her grief. She had one hand pressed tightly to her stomach, feeling somehow that the baby inside her was the only link she had now to Alex. Somehow the thought was comforting, knowing that a part of him lived on in her. The officer returned and set a bottle of water on the table in front of her. "Here you go," he said. A kind smile crinkled around his eyes. Jenny tried to smile back, "Thanks," she mumbled.
"The detective is coming to interview you. He'll be here in just a minute."
"Thanks," she whispered.
The old cop took her small hand in his and patted it softly, "Are you going to be okay?"
Jenny shrugged, "I'll get through it. I have to." But she didn't look like she could get through it, not to the cop. She looked frail and worn, like she might break at any moment.
There was a loud rap on the door and a moment later the detective entered. To Jenny's surprise it was a woman, a young woman wearing a sharp outfit, heels that clicked loudly on the concrete floor, and a scowl on her tight features. Jenny's automatic response was to shrink away from her.
The detective set a file on the table and sat down in front of Jenny. "I understand you're..." she paused, glancing at the file, "Mrs. Harper?"
"Yes."
"Do you know of anybody that may have wanted Mr. Harper dead?"
"No."
"Where were you, when he was killed?"
"I was at my friend's. We... Alex was late and I left," Jenny's voice faltered, "I was so mad at him... I should have stayed." A tear dropped onto the table, "I should have stayed," she whispered again.
The detective shuffled through the file, "It says here that Alex was out of work. Could he have gotten involved in anything illegal?"
"I...I don't know. He didn't talk about work after he got fired."
"How did you get by after he lost his job?"
"Savings. I got a job."
"I see." The detective stood abruptly, "Thank you for your help Mrs. Harper. We'll call you if we need anything else." She nodded at the kind cop next to Jenny, "She can go."
Jenny stood, confused, "Can you tell me who killed Alex?"
"No. We don't know."
"What do I do now?"
The detective stared at her, "Nothing. We'll solve the case."
The old cop took Jenny gently by the arm and guided her toward the door, "You just take the time to get through this," he told Jenny quietly, "I'll keep you updated, and I'll check on you to make sure you're okay."
This time Jenny's small smile was genuine, "Thank you, for all of your help."
The old cops eyes crinkled again. He would be Jenny's rock through the coming months, he knew it as well as she.

The coffee shop

The change clattered onto the counter. "One cup of Joe," the bum mumbled while settling himself onto the stool. His face was blotchy red and his hands trembled. Patches of blue were visible here and there on his coat, but mostly it was gray streaked with brown. A fit of coughing racked his body. The barista looked at the man in disgust; he quickly counted the coins, trying his best to touch them as little as possible, and then turned to make the coffee. "Here," he snapped, setting the cup in front of the bum. "Hurry up with it and move on. You're making my guests uncomfortable."
The bum glanced around the room. It was nearly empty. The one exception was a young woman seated three seats down from him. She was watching him with interest. He nodded to her and turned back to the barista. "Sure," he chuckled. He took a slow sip of his coffee and sighed. "There's nothing like coffee to warm a man's..." loud, hacking coughs interuppted his words, doubling him over. He gasped for air and then straightened up, "bones." he finally finished.
The barista just glared at him.
The young woman moved to sit next to the bum, "Hello," she said, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help noticing you sitting here alone. That cough sounds bad. Are you okay?"
The bum nodded, "I'm fine."
"I don't believe you."
The bum laughed mirthlessly, "Nobody seems to."
The woman beckoned to the barista. "Give him his change back. I'll cover his tab, whatever he wants, make sure he gets it."
The bum shook his head, "You don't need to do that lady. I'm no charity case."
She laughed, "I never said you were."
They lapsed into silence. The barista counted back the bums change and dropped it on the counter.
Thirty minutes later the bum left. His changed remained on the counter; he drank his coffee and nothing more. The woman watched him go, wondering what had brought him to his current state.