I got it bad and that ain't good

part 1: whiskey

As the cold hard glass slides across the wood and into its owner hand for a quick sip, he's not thinking about the taste of the rot gut whiskey he just swallowed he's thinking about the murder the previous day before. The smoke filled room is accustomed to many wonders, but he is no wonder, no he's a 9-5, 6 days a week cop who forgets all and uses the bottle to help him achieve that goal. He's alone, not a single soul to come home to, just day old takeout, he can't sleep the booze may cover up the pain while he's awake but as he traverses into his dreams only himself can help there. What's a cops life without a little discomfort, he's been at it for 12 years now on the streets of Boston, solving homicides, suicides you name it, what's his drive, what's his motivation to face those demons every time he opens his eyes. It's his wife, only 29 newly married 11 years ago, gunned down for 20 dollars. Or it might be the booze, all he knows is the long arm of justice will reach farther with him on the force, and he's the best damn cop they have.