I turned the letter over in my gloved hands before reading it one last time. It was a damned shame. If he had just waited one more day. He would have checked the mail one last time, everything would have been fine. One more day and he would have gotten the news. He would know that she was coming back. He would know that she forgave him, and I wouldn’t have to cut him down from the rafters. I placed the letter in the plastic bag and zipped it shut.
These are the days I really hate being a cop.
Image: stolica by, Milos Milosevic (CC BY 2.0)
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