The Rose Trimmed With Gold

Chapter 2

Ramiro pulled up to the police station at a quarter to 8, the sun rising, washing away the night, and painting it with colors of brilliant orange, pink, and purple. The air itself blazed with thin lights that fell hard and glinted on every surface, especially on the white police station in the distance. A small breeze blew past Ramiro, like the Earth itself sighed, and Ramiro felt intoxicated by the beauty of the Earth, and by association, life itself. He walked toward the two story police station, lights dimly shining from the windows. He walked towards the large police station and pushed open the glass doors and into the police station. He watched as his coworkers careened around aimlessly, trying to find something that may be helpful to them. His police chief stood in the middle of the room, tapping his feet in an anxious song that stood out to Ramiro's ears in the busy excited bustling that filled the room, giving the room the feeling that it was breathing, as people came in and out at a consistent pace. Everyone searched hastily for what seemed like everything, newspaper clippings, photos, and evidence, and they hung it up on a bulletin board that usually stood lonesome in the corner, waiting for someone to come. Ramiro pushed his way through the office and made his way to his police chief.

"Hey boss, what's going on?" Ramiro asked, and the police chief looked around, not really paying attention or hearing what Ramiro was saying. Ramiro snapped his fingers in front of his police chief's face, and he seemed to snap out of his trance, blinking his eyes multiple times and turning his head wildly around. He looked like a lost dog looking for his owner, or at least pretending to be, but not truly wanting to find them because it misses being a wolf.

"Huh?! What is it?!" he barked, his voice rough from age and his eyes full of jittery jubilation, like he was on the verge of his greatest triumph, and Ramiro shook his head.

"What's going on, boss?" Ramiro asked, and the police chief laughed, a tense and stressed laugh, one of a man that's traipsing on a small line of hope and happiness, but one wrong move will send him overboard, hurtling towards the foundations of his personality of being a stressed and hard man, a man who's seen too many hardships, and wants to help, and who tries his best, but even that sometimes isn't enough.

"We just may crack the drug trafficking cases," The police chief said, and he cheerfully smiled, and it looked off on him, like it had been years since he had last smiled, and he was rusty, his smile was too wide and it tugged too hard on his cheeks, and his eyes too closed.

"Wow, that's great, boss!" Ramiro eagerly responded, and the rush around the room stopped suddenly, as if someone had frozen everyone in the room. They stood, looking at a large bulletin board with a metal frame that outlined a sea of arbitrary pictures and newspaper clippings, some not even in English, that sat in the cork material that the bulletin board was made of. Ramiro and the police chief made their way over to the now popular bulletin board and looked at the magnificently spun web of red string that now fully enveloped the bulletin board.

"Hm, interesting…" the police chief's voice rang out, stating the obvious. The web started at a newspaper clipping, which was in English about how crime was rising in a small city in Michigan right off the harbor of Lake Michigan named the Valley of Ashes, due to a gang that called themselves the Dimenticato mafia. They had a calling card, which was a black rose, dark as coal, and they had left them lonely at scenes of evil deeds that they ruthlessly and unapologetically committed. The black rose web led to other clippings and pictures, some in Canadian French, and Mexican, and some in English, with pictures of crime scenes with dead bodies laying there, women and men with glazed eyes and scarlet stains that swirled in all sorts of different places, and on top their bodies, a singular black rose, sitting there in excellent hatred for the world. It was a grand sight to see that their hard work had paid off, and they might be able to stop this well-oiled machine that had become a thorn in the flesh of so many countries. Ramiro had never had so much hope that he could save the dazzling pool of humanity than he did in that small second of time. He broke into a wide smile, and he clapped the police chief on the back, and he felt his back muscles right below his shoulder blades tense up, like he wasn't used to being congratulated.