Chapter 8: and the Heart Thief (Part IV)

I came. I saw. I conquered. — Julius Caesar

     “Can I help you?” did I really look that unrecognisable? It was him, the officer who beckoned me to her like I needed to be told what was in that will. I had known, for a long time -Jessica’s intentions.

     “Yes you may, can you point me in the direction of the nearest store?” I asked looking around in his cabin, it was so neat.
     “How about you come inside, I’ll get you a towel. Then I’ll escort your there myself.” Well we can rule out lovers. He was all jittery and tense -I think he may fancy me. I stepped inside his house, giving him the twice over as I passed him, he sure was uneasy for a police officer. It hit me and I had to catch my breath "she’d been here. She was all over him and his couch. I tensed not liking the possibility of my earlier judgement.
     “Coffee?”
     “No thanks, how about that towel.” I asked snooping around with my nose as he wondered off to goddess knows where. I followed the scent as it led me to a closed door; I opened it glancing over my shoulder. I scowled "a bedroom. I backed away into the lounge room, fist clenching and unclenching as I found my self control. I caught the towel, which I guess he wasn’t expecting.
“Thank you.” I said disgust on my face as I glanced over him, he didn’t seem cocky about the fact, could this be normal and not some freak incident? If so why does she still live at home? Keeping up appearances? I wasn’t happy and he could tell. I brushed the towel over my face and body, rustling its fibres through my hair.
     The town was like a pack of squirrels all happy go lucky and full of life. I bought a new shirt and pants, as well as shoes "to keep up appearances. I through them over the wooden cage and took a shower in this public thing so small I could barley wash myself. I wasn’t the most shy or modest of men but it was a little confronting the woman of the town and their leering eyes and whispers. I dressed in the safety of the wooden box but it was quite the challenge. The shirt that Officer Joe or whatever he said his name was told me to buy was white and had the smallest buttons in the history of small buttons, it also felt two sizes to small and clung to me like a leech. I’d worn shirts like this before but they had no buttons and had an open neck, flowing sleeves and didn’t constrict movement and breathing. The pants were feel fitted but baggy at the ankles, I was used to that but they were such an odd colour, as blue as the Mediterranean but as weathered and worn as the rocks upon the beach. Who in their right mind trades a sword with sacred Chinese inscriptions for a shirt two sizes to small and pants that were dull in colour and well worn looking? I should have kept the sword I’ll probably need it as leverage when we try to make our way through China to get back home. I highly doubt they would be so pleased with me stealing their sacred sword and all.