Aggie

The day started quietly. A man coughed a few times as he walked down the street. His lungs sounded trapped and heavy. Off in the distance Aggie heard sirens. The air was crisp and clear. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of black coffee and brought it to her desk. She opened the window to let in the fresh air. She heard a car pull in and park, leaving the engine running. A man appeared from behind the building and had an exchange with the driver. They're at it again, she thought.

When Aggie was in the gathering-information stage on a case she'd often have a recurring dream of linking two puzzle pieces together. One piece had a pattern of green grass and the other was a red clown-nose. She forced them to fit. This is my life, she thought, disparate elements that are part of the same puzzle. She braided her waist-length red hair in the mirror and spun it into a flat ball resembling a sticky bun and headed out the door.