Main ingredients:
First girlfriend
Detective
Olives
Prunes
Court

Spice pack:
⅛ pinch of disgust
½ smidge of satisfaction

She was tall and walked extremely loud as to make her presence known -- as if her olive perfume didn’t accomplish that already. She wore the same coat to every crime scene and it was black like her soul, except for that purple prune pin she would wear for good luck or whatever. No one really understood her and I can’t say I did either, all I knew was this: she was different. The kind of different that made me stare at her and question what was running through her brain as she picked up the bloody handbag off of the crime scene floor. Most detectives would know better -- leave everything as it was found, take pictures, and try to piece the puzzle together. But she was different. She wasn’t afraid to move the puzzle pieces because she already knew the story. She didn’t need to talk to the others on the scene and ask for their input. All she had to do was stare. Kind of like how I was staring at her while trying to piece her story together. There was a sense of mystery to that one.

I figured the only way I could figure out her story was by making her my girlfriend. A week later, I took her to court and made her my first and last.