Learn Another Language!

I was headed to work again, it was Friday, not to be mixed up with the weekend and the now notorious braided rugs incident. These days it seemed like I worked everyday and most days at minimum 12 hours. I’m not gonna lie, I’m completely burnt. I could hear my own thoughts, but it was as if I couldn’t or wouldn’t react.

Numb is the word I’m groping for, dazed. I knew I seemed rough, but I was too tired to care and plainly I was kind of energized from exhaustion and oddly I was enjoying it. It had been past three weeks on this last case, and still no luck. Yeah, I had somewhere around 7 or 8 other jobs I could be musing about , but this one had me in its grip.

I was obsessed. Either way, the journey to work was a blur and all I remember was that crazy lady, Dolly was what they called her. I think her authentic name was Sharon. She always has that far off look in her eyes. Sad really. You can see she was probably a nice lady at one time. Now she pushes a cart around and grumbles as she stares off into space. Tony would call any minute and want to know what the strategy for the day is.

All I could think of were a floor full of oval braided rugs, soaked with coffee. There were covers right there and a covering on the hardwood two feet away from the espresso maker. Why braided rugs? Were they already in the condo? Did the woman bring them with her? There weren’t any other rugs in the apartment. They looked hand crafted. Pretty nice from what I could tell, except for the coffee stains of course. Why braided rugs? Ring. Ring. Yep. Ok, listen I think those silly rugs are the answer. Lets look more into those things and contact Miss. Delgado about all the folders she had at the scene.