Clients Anyone?
February 3rd 2008 09:56
"Pardon me for my insolence", she would always utter, and I, as she stares with her stridden eyes that never fail to collide on mine. My eyes, would always feel Something creepy brimming on my eyes. Tears, and everything that i could say was "Here she goes again", the words ringing in my eardrums. She was a typical damsel with her witty and derogatory verses and thoughts. Sometimes, she would preach her grandiose philosophies that I myself could no longer fathom. I am awacky one and she was somber, she was my client and I, a sleuth. We sharedlots of memorable pursuit together. We shared delicious cherry-topped ice creamand mind-blowing "Sherlock moments", I considered her as my warm acquaintance but not in the menu for dessert as friends, I think we are nearly to that. I always ruminate that whenever she gets to glare at me, I always concluded that she's mad and sometimes her lucidity is hard to balance. There came a point in time when the sleuth could no longer please her client or win their hideous case. Our suit data are now destroyed and the sleuth now removes his shroud. It was my fault but not to mention any evidences to the incident, that is the time when we made no connections at all, no cases to handle, no client to trust you, and even though I never call her my friend. Still now, I wish to call her one for I have nobody to jest with. "Don't call yourself a detective, you are disgrace to the order", it cast my ears, her words at last. I tried to humbly lower myself to you, for I took you words and I believed you, mate, but I think I am too ancient for such devious game. I felt so cold, so blind that I did not see the people who needed much of my service-people who are ought to have one that resembles me. I felt a hand executing towards me, a hand so warm, an earnest one. Even though, I, not a detective but a servant of true service. Oh such a wondrous sight, I became a generous one, with many friends to wack with. I will keep you in my memory, it became hard for me to distant myself from you, mate. I will not summon even one string of our Sherlock moments, right? I am forlorn for all the remorse and mayhems that I caused you, thanks for the memories. Whenever I look at His eyes staring at me in the church, he stares at me not as likely as she stares. Though I can feel your aura in His and I as I lay back between a thought and a dream, Mirages of the people whom I succor, remains poignant, but you are latent. For I, cannot could not clinch myself a sleuth rather a servant.
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