The Chill of the Morning – part 2

If you haven’t read part one yet, you may want to click here.

The Chill of the Morning
Image provided by
sean_hickin @ https://www.flickr.com/photos/sean_hickin/

Bill Turner (the cop with the Smartphone) wasn’t any taller than five feet, nine inches. Because there’s a couple of policemen in my family, I know that the minimum height is exactly what Turner was. As far as cops go, he was a shorty. His dark brown hair was styled with the sides cut super close, but not shaved. Actually, it suited his square jaw line and his light olive skin. He was a nice looking man.

He asked me the normal questions, of course: name, address, phone number, how long I’ve lived at my current residence, and how long I’ve known the Thomas’. Finally, he got to the juicy stuff. “Ms. Croft, what exactly did you see?”

I told him what he wanted to know. I tried my best not to sigh because I knew, or at least thought I knew how long this was going to take. I wanted to just tell him in my own words about the incident, but I had the feeling that it would just make the interview longer.

“Okay, now what were they wearing?”

The entire interview was this way. After the fifth question about the suspects, I asked if we could sit down on the steps. He looked relieved. I wondered if his shoes weren’t fitting him right.

I told Turner about their matching dark gray hoodies and that one was tall and the other short. And no, I didn’t see their faces. He asked me how I knew the short one was female. That was easy; she jiggled when she ran. I heard his chuckle after I said that, which almost got me doing the same thing.

Winding up the interview, he said, “Thanks for coming forward. Now, you did say the Jeep was medium blue with rust stains?”

“Yes. It didn’t have the rounded corners of the newer models either.”

“Okay, thank you. I wish you had seen their faces. If you think of something you didn’t mention or you see the Jeep, please call me,” and he handed me his card.

It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that I was able to venture up to the front door of Vickie Thomas’ house and ring the doorbell. When she opened the door, I hardly recognized her. Her hair was strawberry blonde instead of the soft brown it had been in the past.

“Hi Vickie. I just came over to see how you and Hugh are doing after the robbery.”

She let me in making niceties as we walked to her kitchen. After getting settled at the kitchen table with tea, she said, “I feel so violated still. It’s all I can do to take a shower when no one is here. What gets me is that we have nothing worth stealing.”

“I can’t even imagine how horrid this is for you. How’s Hugh taking it?”

“It’s weird. He talked a little about it last night after the cops left, but that’s it. This morning he acted like nothing ever happened. I started to talk about it and he told me that he didn’t have time and that he’d talk to me tonight after work.”

“Vickie, some people handle bad things that way. Don’t read more into it than what’s there. Now then, what’s with the change in hair color?”

It turned out that she was having her hair dyed while the house was being robbed. She said she was trying to put a spark back into her marriage. Was that what the lack of emotion was all about that morning? Keep your mouth shut, Rebecca. I didn’t stay very long after that. I wanted to avoid seeing Hugh now that I knew things could be better between the two of them.

I was in my bedroom later that night putting my robe on over my pajamas when I heard a vehicle drive by. Usually I would barely notice something like that, but it sounded as if it might have needed a new muffler. Peeking out from behind the curtains, I saw a Jeep in the Thomas’ driveway. It looked like the same one, but I couldn’t be sure of the color was the same.

part three

I’m hoping to wrap up this story next Friday.

 

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13 thoughts on “The Chill of the Morning – part 2

    1. When I started this piece, I didn’t think about the fact that I was writing in 1st person. Now, doing the 2nd part, I realize that it feels a little odd to me. Your comment (thank you by the way) caught me off guard because this piece feels weird. Could it be that I need to feel weird when I write?

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      1. This feels comfortable to read–like you were comfortable when you wrote it. I wonder what’s going on? Some kind of transition? Sounds its natural to YOU. Odd you don’t feel that way. Keep on. Let’s see what happens. ❤ If you can continue the same tone, pace and voice. Maybe something will be revealed to you about the writing.
        Actually, I have mentioned that you sound comfortable in essays you've written. These always sound the best to me.

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        1. It feels weird to write in 1st person, but it may just be because I’ve gotten so used to 3rd person. It’s kind of like when you discover that green looks better on you when you’ve been wearing blue all this time. It’s a surprise that you definitely notice.

          Is that what many of my posts are? Essays? I haven’t thought of them as such. I can tell you that I do like writing descriptive narrative even though I’ve shyed away from it because I learned in Creative Writing that stories shouldn’t have too much of that — just as much as what is needed.

          I do like conversational voice. (Where did that come from?)

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    1. Wow, you’re the second person who has said you like my voice in this piece. I’m so used to writing in third person. Now I’m wondering if I should change. Thank you for the positive feedback, Jacqui. 🙂

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  1. Great story, Glynis, it flows wonderfully. I like what you write in 1st person, but wonder what it is that makes you feel weird? Perhaps in your mind, you become that person while writing.

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    1. Of course I become that person in my mind. That even happens when writing in 3rd person for me — main character only though. Still, 1st person does put bigger stakes into that character for me. That could be a good thing, yes? :/

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