Life is usually unextraordinary; I knew that. Things like this just didn’t happen to people like me. These kinds of things were reserved for “other” people, never me. All that knowledge, all that intuition, and all that experience couldn’t change the fact that what I held in my hands was most certainly extraordinary, perhaps even other-worldly, and yet I felt no apprehension. No unease. I was perfectly calm. Collected. I had it together, and I was ready to walk the path I knew lay before me. I was ready to risk my life for it. I took it and tucked it under my arm and without hesitation I began to walk through the gateway, and as I walked I could not help but think back on the events that led me to this point…
It was seven days prior and I had just gotten out of the shower. Dripping wet, I wiped the condensation from my new "steam-free" mirror which clearly did not work as advertised. I sighed. It was going to be another depressing and lonely day. I wondered; was this all I would ever be? A faulty mirror's reflection? Forcefully, I banished those thoughts to where they belonged: the mostly-working toilet.
I walked into the bedroom, thinking about the half-empty bottle of Jack I needed to finish. But I knew that would still be there when I got back from Cynthia's Funeral. Just thinking about when I last saw her made my heart and soul erupt with a poignant mixture of love and regret that threatened to break my façade of indifference to life.
I finished dressing. That damned fool Cop O'Brien couldn't find trees in a forest. If anyone was going to find Cynthia's killer, it might as well be me. "Oh Cynthia, I miss you..." I said as tears streamed like the rain outside my penthouse windows. I gathered my coat up and walked out of my house. Little did I know it would be the last time I saw my familiar curtains, favorite book or even my warm bedspread. The next few minutes of my life were about to change everything forever. Not just for me, but for everyone. The funny thing is, nobody will believe what I suspect
