Snow, exposed then hidden again for the split second it passes the street light. I wonder if its the same snow on loop. Like some colossi's boots kicking up dust down an endless road. Right then I realised we'd never see the end of this winter in our lives.
I drag my feet through the trenches of paper work, mass graves of unsolved cases. Fruitless leads. The patches of floor that are visible are tarred sticky with years of spilt coffee. In the corner is an obelisk of forgotten CCTV tapes and spent .357 shells.
The unfaltering candle light that is the lamp post remains present at my window. Making more of an impact now and the snow seems to be giving up its assault.
For a second I swear there was a piglet in the halogen fire mouthing the words "Cunting Nonse bot".
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