[i]Pain.[/i] The only thought that flashed acrosss Enrique Romero's head as his consciousness started reacting to the white light of the room being turned on, in contrast to the dark blue of the sky outside of his window. He rubbed his aching back, affected by the cold of a New Bath night; even under two sets of blankets. Enrique opened his eyes and reacted to the sound of steps going out of the room, explained by the empty spot beside him in the small bed. 

The medium-sized room seemed all too small sometimes, the wooden walls and floor creaked at times, the water leaked on one of the corners as the melted snow accumulated on the roof. Enrique used his hands to sit himself up, removing his ineffective barrier against cold, immediately extending his arm towards the small nightstand filled with framed pictures of his family, pills and creams. He picked up the smartphone he had acquired a few months before to the check the hour: 5:00 AM. He pondered for a moment whether it would be a good idea to turn on the TV in front of him; he no longer had to respond to his old weekly schedule, no longer reporting at the precint in the early hours in the morning as he had once done in the past. Enrique sighed.

He stood up to welcome the day once again and went to kiss his wife in the kitchen; he didn't know at what time the 5"6 woman had dressed up but she was in her usual attire: a solid dark blue dress which had grown with the years but remained as new through the magic of the needle. The years they had been together didn't change the beauty of the soft features in her face (now with wrinkles added), or the kind, deep brown eyes that stared back into his. He quietly walked up behind her and locked in a hug with the woman with a cofee pot in her hand. With a short kiss, they exchanged "Good morning" and had the microwave break the embrace with an incessant beeping. She caressed Enrique's hand and pulled it away, pointing at the white door at the end of the narrow hallway that led into the bathroom. Enrique ruffled her short dark hair and nodded, going with a tired step.

His son hadn't awakened yet to go to his high school, although the teenager hadn't welcomed him (or even talked to him) yesterday. At 5:30 AM, Enrique was dressed and eating breakfast, although the usual cheerfulness of the situation was gone. The demotion he had recieved wouldn't have affected the couple ten years ago but they had a son now. They had more costs to cover and they were both aging. Enrique found himself quiet at a question asked by his wife, looking at the scrambled eggs resting on the decorated plastic plate in front of him with a frown in his face. He felt his wife's soft hand going over Enrique's. [b]"You did the right thing, boo."[/b] Her soft voice, changed by the Argentinean accent inherited from her parents, didn't match the ambience of the room. [i]Doesn't feel like it.[/i] After finishing his cold meal, Enrique hugged Maria's figure once again and heard his son rustling awake as he closed the front door to get into the old blue 92 Crown Victoria covered in water from the rain in the past night.

The car's exhaust loudly exploded every once on a while as he drove along the highway. The precint wasn't too far from Enrique's neighborhood but it was far enough for any unsuspecting car to get trapped in the morning traffic jams, only a further reason to go out this early. The few homeless people and immigrants under the bridges, looking for a roof and a fire to heat their abandoned souls looked at the cars passing by with stares that matched the cold of the city. Enrique looked in the rear-view mirror every time he passed a bridge, looking at some faces he recognized from his years; addicts, drifters and thieves, all too human in a concrete jungle that didn't care about their situation. He almost didn't step on the brakes on time, having ignored the line of cars in front of him. The local radio immediatly warned the man caught in traffic about a vehicular accident three hundred feet ahead.

7:30 AM - Enrique closed the door of his car, feeling the changing temperature of the day as the clock advanced. [i]Shouldn't have brought my jacket.[/i] The radio had switched to the morning news, bringing the echos of a hundred days past; the same shit: thievery, growth in the economy, a drive-by, an artist marrying and people fighting whether the people under the bridge deserved food or not. The usual order of the parking lot, usually filled with familiar cars, had changed that day. In front of the usual red-brick building, with security cameras on its sides, there was a car unusual to the area. Although it didn't look as new as the Chief's red Range Rover, it contrasted with the patrol cars that surrounded it. [i]Must be a higher up.[/i]

Opening the door, he walked into the familiar building. The eyes that had quickly darted at the door moved away as they recognized the short Hispanic man in the brown suit, although a few did a double take. Some rumours about the reasons of his demotion had been flying around the local police force, a few knowing the truth. Enrique walked past the reception desk, merely waving at the perpetual figure of officer Carl Pavlov sitting behind it. The bald, fat man looked up through his glasses at the figure walking quickly down one of the hallways. [b]"Officer Romero."[/b] The nasal voice, almost surreally monotone for a member of the police force, caused Enrique to stop on his track and look back at Pavlov. [b]"Your new office is that way."[/b] said the bespectacled man, pointing down a different hallway on the opposite direction. [i][u]Fuck you, Pavlov.[/u][/i]. Enrique imagined that the man, at his retirement age, was imagining smugly that this was one of the few victories of his miserable day. For some reason, the frustration that had accumulated through the morning was expressing himself through the light reflecting off Pavlov's glasses and blinding Enrique. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the headache that was starting to plague him. [b]"Sorry, force of habit."[/b] said Enrique, walking past the reception desk once again, looking directly at Captain Guerra walk out of an office that, up until recently, was closed for refitting into one for a new a division.

Enrique's relation with Captain Guerra was one of quiet respect; they hadn't talked to each other a lot through the years served, seeing as he had spent most of his times on the patrol cars outside the building. However, Enrique had seen the young man's meteoric rise through the force as a series of visits to crime scenes. The first one, he was merely listening to orders and obeying his superior officer. Half a year later, he had started directing some officers around, although with supervision from the same commanding officer. As their steps neared each other, Enrique looked up to the detective who had preemptively stretched his hand out. Enrique's expression change into the usual calm smile he presented himself with, shaking Guerra's hand (which was twice as big as his). [b]"Officer Romero, it's a pleasure to meet you face to face at last. I know you're more used to the field but we could use your help with the new operations."[/b] said Guerra as the couple of officers met each other in the middle of the hallway, just next to the Morgue door. The smell of the chemicals used inside the room, usually camoflauged by Glade, had to be ignored by Enrique. [b]"My move to this division surprised me but I'll help however I can."[/b] retorted Enrique, making way for a person or two rushing down the hall with paperwork in their hands.

[b]"I don't really know the circumstances but, whatever happened, I believe the lead of the division will need your help along with the other officers moving in."[/b] said Guerra, lowering the volume of his voice nearing a whisper. [b]"She's foreign but she's experienced; you guys just help her around the city."[/b] Enrique raised his hand to scratch his chin, listening closely to the Captain's words and looking directly at the word [b][u]"MORGUE"[/u][/b] printed on the glass in front of him. [b]"She's waiting in the room down the hallway. I'll leave you two to speak."[/b] Before Enrique could express any of the doubt he was feeling at the moment, the Captain walked past him with a smile and a tap to Enrique's back; the opening of a division would keep a person busy most of the time. Enrique touched the door, watching a few blurry shadows move past the glass. [i]Can we really help?[/i]

Enrique took a moment to turn the knob on the door labeled [u][b]"HOMICIDE DIVISION"[/b][/u], considering what his future would be from that point on. The metal was cold. For some reason, for the first time in a long time, the morning of Bath, the knob and the air conditioning above him felt really, really [i]cold. So damn cold.[/i] He pushed the door slowly, his attention immediatly drawn to one of the desks on the left side of the room. The contents of his old office had already been moved. He sighed, without realizing the blonde woman, slightly taller than him, staring at him. He walked towards his new desk, setting the phone on top of it (just next to the picture of his wife and son) and turned around, with a hand stretched out for a handshake and a calm smile. [b]"I believe you are the new lead. My name is Enrique Romero, native to this place, been in the force for... around 20 years, give or take. I hope you are finding the city well. What's your name?"[/b]