Air Conditioned Crime Scene

Today you were thinking about police stations in early fall, specifically last year. For some reason it was a tolerable type of anxiety compared to the mundane sort, an air conditioned room of security in every sense of the word. The last three days had been an exhausting timelessness, in rooms with no windows, on hospital beds, and waking up to the same roof with the same light, not sure what time it was. The last three days had been transferred through buildings, conversations and the same questions, held so securely. The most secure you’d ever felt in your entire life.

And, when it finally came to that day of early fall, the walk to the police station, bare naked, knowing he was probably around, in the same type of air conditioning, in the chair across from her, against and in between each question asked,

are you sure?

What did he do next?

Can you explain how long that lasted in seconds?

Are you sure?

You drew out a map together, searching through your eyes, what stuck out, what you remembered the most vividly. There was no fence, there was that small shed on the right hand side behind the truck, the car was illuminated in a street lamp, it was a parking lot, there was a building in front, there was a window up high, there was no fence, you were positive there was no fence. You remembered driving uphill but there were so many turns and you weren’t paying attention. They were back streets. You remembered the floor of the car, the light on, the driver seat empty, a cigarette in your hand, waiting for him to come back. You remembered the taste of the cigarette, the colour of your-

For some reason you still felt more okay to cry here than you have ever felt okay to cry anywhere.

She kept saying, it’s okay to feel, and I know it’s going to be, and she’d done this so many times.

And that dark night in early fall when they picked you up in the undercover cop van, and you all laughed, and you scoped out each lamp lit park that you’d drawn out in the office,

no not this one,

not this one, it looks familiar but it’s too dark.

And he hit curbs and she laughed and said he was the worst partner because he couldn’t drive, and he rolled his eyes in the rear view mirror. He exited a DO NOT EXIT street, with her encouragement, we’re cops! she winked at you, said shhhh. She reminded you of someone who would have approached you first at a new school. You wondered if he was married, he was young enough that he might not be. They included you, made it an adventure for all three of you, they made the fact that you were looking for a crime scene, your crime scene, feel a little more exciting, magical, if at all possible.

That was a year ago.

You’re thinking about how it feels like yesterday.