[b][i]Morning[/i][/b]
“Hey Carlos, won’t you clean this place up, man. It stinks in here,” Philip Mason yelled at his younger brother. “You working tonight?” PJ, as his friends called him had dressed in a pair of light grey Calvin Klein dress slacks over his black spit polished Allen Edmonds Park Avenue Oxfords. The black belt matched the shoes. He wore a light pink short sleeve button down dress shirt and to cap off this fashion statement, a navy blue necktie with a tiger lily print pattern with oranges, greens and lighter blues.

“Yea, dog,” Carlos responded. “I’m on the night shift. Trying to get some sleep. So, why don’t you quit hasslin’ me.”

“Yea, yea, yea. I got to go to work. Take care of yourself, bro. See you later.” Philip left through the front door, took the elevator to the first floor then to the parking garage at the rear of the building. He parked his fire engine red 1984 Chevy Camaro Z28 on the 2nd deck of the garage. It was his pride and joy. He traded the Ford in for the Camaro two years ago and he loved it. The 5-litre 8-cylinder engine hummed under the hood.

The parking sticker for the apartment building allowed him access to the garage, he was able to get in and out without a problem. He drove the car downtown; traffic this time of the morning was just picking up. But he didn’t have far to go, less than two miles. The radio played [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOnABvJWS30]Man in the Mirror[/url] by Michael Jackson for the brief drive. When he arrived at the Times, he eased the Camaro into the parking garage, another place requiring a parking sticker. He found a parking spot on the 4th level. After locking the doors, he headed to the first floor.

Instead of walking into the Times, he frequented a nearby diner to get a cup of coffee. As he traveled the three hundred yards to the diner, he passed Jerome Knight, someone he graduated High School with who was now employed by the Delta City Police Department. “Hey Jerome, how’s it hangin’ dog?”

Jerome recognized his friend. “PJ, I’m good, how you, bro?” The two clasped hands, pulling each other in for a slight chest bump.

“I’m good. How about them Corsairs?” PJ remarked as he took a few steps toward the diner.

“They are cracklin’ PJ!” Officer Knight responded, obviously a fan of the local ball team.

“Catch you later, J,” PJ finished his walk to the dinner. He picked up a copy of the [i]Gulf Gabs[/i] on his way inside. He sat at the counter and ordered a coffee with one cream and two sugars. In no time at all the coffee arrived and he began to sip as he read the [i]piece of trash[/i] he picked up for just a few cents outside. When he read the bit about the arson investigation, he could only shake his head in disgust. [i]‘This is fucking crap, whoever wrote this. They don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground,’[/i] PJ thought to himself.

After he finished his coffee, glanced at his watch, and figured it was time to head to the news bureau at the Times.