My badge was freshly cast, still warm inside my bag when I showed up to the beach for my first day of work. I quickly realized that ‘special’ shouldn’t be put anywhere near my name, even if ‘detective’ came directly after it. There was nothing special about me, standing over the body of a young teen, slain, face half-submerged in the sand. The receding tide had left behind little shells around her naked body that glistened under the morning sun. Some appeared trapped in the netting of her blonde hair which tentacled away from her head towards the water. Of course something so beautiful—those golden strands—wanted to get as far away as possible from such an ugly scene. I could relate, though this was my job. I was studied in the scrutiny of detail, understood as someone who’d be capable of seeing past the crusted blood and scrapes across her pale skin, and that frightened stare. Before glazing over, I imagine her eyes appeared as deep as the ocean she now stretched still in front of.
Lemaire, Pre-Fall 15
