The Longest night

冬至 [4] / [16]

He opened his eyes, pulled out a pen and an old pocket notebook. The notebook was small enough to fit in the hand but also pretty thick. It’s dark brown color slightly faded as time passed. From long before he could remember, it was his habit of writing down emerging thoughts.

---

<Mountain water>

You agonized, you agonized

Even in the waves of a shirt

spring water flows and curls.

There's no one whom I could talk of this night with

I cannot sing with the noise of streets

As I sat at the side of a stream as if pausing

Leaving love and work to the street

quietly quietly

Let us go to the sea,

let us go to the sea.

---

He let go of the pen, staring at what he wrote. He closed the notebook and put it back into his pocket again. He stared at the message from Cynthia, caught between ignoring it outright, or replying later with a 'mea culpa' about not having seen it.

The office had been inundated with open cases since early summer this year and there were no leads on who the suspect or suspects could be until now. While the police ran about searching for the suspect’s whereabouts in confusion, the shithead once more snatched an innocent scapegoat.

He thought better of it, and decided to go to the office. He gulped whiskey down at once. He got to his feet, staggered a bit and stood up straight and left the bar. The sleet stopped, but the wind whipped far harder than before. He gathered his coat firmly again. The drunkenness about to fell him faltered by the cold winds of winter. The thudding sound of his shoes, which now moved him hurriedly onward, echoed across the pavement of the quiet alley.

When he entered the office building, he ran head on into John Lester.

"Hey, Who is this? Are you on duty tonight?”

John greeted him.

"No, I'm here because of a case,”

Alexander grunted.

---

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