Morning came. The upside of it was that the sunlight was lessened down in the basement. I rubbed at the side of my head, feeling the incipient headache. I reached out before remembering I hadn’t poured out a bottle of water for myself the night before. I despaired momentarily until my eyes focused enough to find that there was, indeed, a large jug by the bed. I grabbed it gratefully, drank, guzzled the better part of a gallon. I let out a sigh of deep and abiding relief, and leaned back in the downstairs bed.
Case File: Michael Gray
I woke up to the sound of a crashing platter. I sat up immediately, and was upstairs in a few seconds. A petite Asian woman with messy red hair stood across from Roy, holding up a frying pan in a threatening manner. Roy had both hands up, expression innocent and nervous. A metal platter had fallen to the ground between the two of them, and was still rolling.
The stories that stand out to people tend to be the ones that are full of twists, turns, death, and pain. When you read a novel, it’s easy to start seeing a character’s life as one long, unending ride of pain, horror, and knowledge-steeped monologue. But life is more complicated than that. Life is full of interminable stretches of just getting by. Talking just to talk, boring walks, mindless activities, cases that don’t have any huge significance. Not every case I take ends with me getting threatened with a brutal and sudden death.
“Are you going to sleep all day?”
The three of us walked out of the house. I frowned. “You don’t want Harry with you? I’ve only been in Hades once, and I didn’t exactly… do anything.”
Susan smiled. “Survive. Not, for example, to do anything about this end of the world-”