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TEOTWAWKI. The end of the world as we know it.
Humor was an easy coping tool, and cops used it regularly. There was no disrespect, just investigators trying to protect their hearts from horrible sights left by the underbelly of humanity.
Count five things you can touch. He placed one hand on the cold metal spigot of the sink and let the stream run over his other hand, concentrating on the sensation of running water. Then he ran a wet hand over his spiky hair, touched the rough fabric of his sleeve, and deliberately banged a knee into the white sink, welcoming the small pain. Count four things you can see.
Count three things you can hear. Scratchy music through the single ceiling speaker. The water in the sink. The murmur of voices from the bar. Count two things you can smell.
Seek doers, not talkers. Choose friends wisely. Be frugal. Family first. Except when it comes to me.
Supervisory Senior Resident Agent Jeff Garrison and Intelligence Analyst Darby Cowan.
He hated nothing worse than people who spoke to hear themselves talk or people who tried to cover up that they were slackers by using an avalanche of words. More words did not mean more intelligence.
People are going to treat me however they decide. Nothing I can do about it.
Little things. His mom and sister had always appreciated the little things. His dad had taught him how to listen for them, and it’d never let him down.
Sometimes you meet a person you’re destined to have in your life forever.
