Saturday, May 20th, 1933

I watched the blades of the fan turn slowly, creating a soft murmur in the darkened room. What time it was, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care to look.

I threw the covers off of me and reached for the nearly-empty cigarette pack on my night stand. Grabbing a solitary match, I lit a cigarette as I made my way to the window.

I looked out at the sleeping city below, seeing a car pass every so often on the lonely street. A blackness fell over the city like a suffocating blanket, lit here and there only by street lights and headlights, and other restless sleepers in their bedroom windows.

Sleep wasn’t an easy thing for me these days. I’d been having a lot on my mind the past couple of weeks. And I wish I could say a woman wasn’t a part of it, but I’d be lying. I was restless, slightly off, like a picture frame that wouldn’t sit straight. I looked around my apartment, glancing at the kitchen and living area, seeing a mess of things softly lit up by the incoming moonlight.

My apartment wasn’t much. A simple place downtown on the 9th floor. It was as much as I could afford. There weren’t a lot of millionaires in my line of work. And being a private eye for two years after leaving the force hadn’t left me with much, except the occasional hangover and a half-full ash tray.

I was just lucky enough to have a case now. But I’d hit a dead end. It seemed that’s where all the cases headed nowadays. To the middle of nowhere. All the leads faded into darkness, like all the streets below.

I took one last drag from my cigarette as I watched a car slowly drive around the corner, disappearing behind a building and out of view.

It was just another night in whatever I called this.



Original photo by SnapwireSnaps from Pixabay

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