MARBLED EYES

I hadn't slept more than four hours when my alram blared at 9, morning, dragging me out of a restless haze. It was practically impossible to sleep after hearing such gruesome case. I had not slept in ages, my face a lifeless mask of exhaustion, gaunt and pale like walking corpse.

Getting out of bed was a battle, but it was a ritual I knew too well. Office workers everywhere shared the same grim dance. My shift started at 10 a.m. - no time to wallow.

I stumbled to the bathroom and caught my reflection in mirror. My eyes were in the worst condition with a criss cross network of red veins covering the sclera of my eye. My cheeks had hallowed, and dark circles clung under my eyes like bruises. The faint wrinkles on my forehead were new companions. Well, I was getting old. I didn't really complain about it. Wrinkles are a part of manly charm.

A quick shower later, I noticed the unkempt beard shadowing my face. With a sigh, I reached out for the electric razor and clean shaved it. All the cigarette packs I smoked in a day and all the excess caffeine in my system were indispensable delight to keep me awake. But those substances were doing more harm than any good. The disarray of my schedule in the homicide bureau had been quite unsettling.

Despite my tight schedules, I jogged when I could, squeezed in some push-ups or pull ups. I even picked up a basketball game or any sport with neighborhood kids.

This would sound a little off-beat but I am a bachelor, I had to remain in shape for getting some female attention.

In the kitchen, I rummaged through the fridge and found bread and eggs. Two poached eggs, four slices of bread. Simple and functional. I brewed instant coffee, stirred in teaspoons of sugar, sat with my cup - a rare moment of calm.

The weather was sunny, quite exotic at the month of November, both comforting and warm. I lit a cigarette, a first drag sharp in my lungs and begin to hum a tune.

People say that love's a game

A game you just can't win

If there's a way

I'll find it someday

And then this fool will rush in.

The smoke curled into the air as I sang, the lyrics twisting with the clouds of my cigarette.

I got a call from my head.

"Hello, sir.," I answered, voice rough.

"You planning to show up for today?," his tone was sharp.

"No sir. I just overslept last night."

Fuck! my second round of cigarette was half finished. A cough rattled through my chest. I wouldn't be surprised if I died of a lung cancer or the job I did.

I better get a better bonus this Christmas

I dressed quickly —a black blazer over a white shirt, black tie, matching pants, and (polished shoes. A spritz of cheap cologne which my chap recommended)completed the look.

Still smoking my half burnt cigarette as I dress.

As I grabbed my keys, I left the house and saw my door handle with a newspaper. I refused to see it. I was already calm and relaxed. I knew what was in the front page news.