A Noir Story Chapter 1
DescriptionA Noir Story
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(Not the best written chapter at all and very short. Unsure at the moment if I'll continue this or not. But still wanted some opinions on it. Thanks) Chapter One He sat by the window smoking a cigarette, the tip glowing bright as he drew back. The window was open a fraction so he could blow the smoke outside as to not pollute the room. It was no more than three a.m., a cool breeze drifted in through the small opening of the window; he welcomed the coolness of it against his skin. Sirens could be heard off in the distance, the sound echoed through the morning air. Stray neighbourhood cats could be heard below, scampering after rats and rustling through open bins. 'Hmm, come back to bed, please' she said in a dreary undertone. The small amount of light that filtered into the room lay perfectly on her soft naked skin, revealing a delicate body and nicely shaped breasts. He sits, finishes his cigarette. By now she had fallen back to sleep. He closes the window, trying to be quiet to not wake her, puts on his coat and fedora and leaves. The diner is brightly lit, to bright for this hour of the morning he thinks. There are only a few people about, given the time. A police officer who must've gotten stuck with the late shift sits at the coffee bar chatting to the waitress. They get along well; he must be a regular here. A couple of nurses sit in a booth just opposite, winding down from a shift. The waitress fills there coffee cups with a tired smile. 'Another cup of coffee?' she says to him with the same tired smile. He says nothing, just a small hand gesture to say yes. He sits with his hands wrapped around the cup taking in the warmth, his eyes fixed on the dark and no doubt bitter content which fills it, and so consumed in his own thoughts he didn't even notice the man entering the diner. The man takes off his black trench coat and fedora, hanging it on the rack by the door and approaches the coffee bar. 'Morning' he says in a tired croaky voice. He clears his throat and takes a photograph from his side pocket, placing it on the counter top. 'I'm Detective Harrison; I was wondering if you know of or have seen this man?' He looks up from his coffee at the sound of the voice. "I know you" he thought to himself before putting on his fedora, pulling it down at the front to conceal his eyes and stepping out into the cold morning air. The waitress puts down the pot of coffee, wiping her hands on her apron and picks up the photograph. She studies it for awhile then places it back on the counter. She looks over at the now empty booth where he had just been sitting. 'I served him no more than five minutes ago' she says now looking at the detective. 'Did he say anything to you, anything at all?' 'No, he just waved me away. I thought it best to just stay clear' 'If you happen upon him again, do call' he says placing a business card on the counter before turning to leave. The cold morning air seeped its way through his coat as he headed back to her apartment. He needed to try and sleep; his head was beginning to ache from the pressure within. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came. He just didn't think it would be so soon. And who was this Detective Harrison?