Literature
Like an old photograph (pt1)
“Hey, .D,” the other officer lightly tapped on the barrier that separated .D’s desk from the next. .D was clearly busy, hunched over case files and taking notes, in the midst of papers sprawled across his normally neatly kept desk. It was always odd how few personal affects he kept, one framed picture of five teenage boys and a couple letters pinned to his cork board. “Do you think you could give us a hand?”
.D looked up from his work, expression tired and annoyed. He gestured to all of his desk with his pen still in hand. “...Kind of busy here.” He said shortly, an understatement to the severity of